The Unseemly Proposal
by WanderingAround
Summary: Originally by Sparx, this is the continuation of Draco and Hermione's love story.
1. Chapter 39: Truth, Lies and Denials

_A/N__: The Unseemly Proposal is probably one of the greatest unfinished Dramione fics ever. If you still haven't read it, here's the link (just delete the spaces): http: / fanfiction . mugglenet . com / viewstory . php ? sid = 10872_

_I'm picking up where Sparx left us with that killer of a cliffhanger, which is the start of chapter 39. I know she's posted it a while back, but she has said that this fic isn't exactly at the top of her priority list right now._

_I think we all deserve a little closure on this well-loved story, and it would simply be a relief to not have to keep wondering how the hell it might have ended._

**The Unseemly Proposal**

Chapter 39: Truth, Lies and Denials

* * *

_And then something happened. _

The Love Knot around their wrists started to shudder violently, accompanied by a humming vibration that seemed to fill up the whole room in its sudden, taut silence. As Hermione and Draco watched, dumbfounded, the very fabric seemed to boil before their eyes. Instead of feeling as it usually did like there was nothing binding them together, the Love Knot suddenly felt hot and unbelievably heavy.

"What the-" Draco gasped as the Love Knot around his wrist gave a particularly pronounced tremble. "What the hell's happening, Granger?"

"I don't know!" Hermione cried, all enmity forgotten at the moment in the face of the current, much more pressing situation.

In their panic, they tried to pry the increasingly hot fabric from their wrists, fingers scrabbling over it to find some kind of purchase they had previously overlooked. But the moment they both touched it, the Love Knot suddenly glowed a bright, searing white that made them instinctively shut their eyes. Their heads throbbed from the intensity of that glare, as though they had just been caught staring directly at the sun. It was the same color it had emitted when it saved them from that potentially lethal Quidditch fall, and for Hermione, that incident seemed to have happened a thousand years ago, at a time when the boy beside her still seemed to care, and she in turn cared for him.

But this was no time to think about that anymore, not when she hurtling through emptiness, the wind rushing through her ears and her insides churning as if she'd left half of them back at the Head's dorm. She was unable to even scream because of the unyielding pressure on her whole body…

Just as suddenly as it began, it came to an abrupt stop. Hermione wasn't able to take in any of her immediate surroundings, because at that moment her intense feeling of nausea rose and she swayed on the spot, and then fell over. She didn't register the warm, heavy weight on top of her until his breath tickled the side of her cheek.

"Well, isn't this familiar."

Her eyes snapped open to see Draco's gray gaze boring into hers with great irony, and something else underneath that she couldn't entirely decipher. And at the moment, she didn't really want to.

"For god's sake, get off!"

"Take it easy, Granger," he said, wincing. "Not like I chose to fall on top of you, of all things."

Draco scrambled unsteadily to his feet. He then held out a hand to help her up, but she ignored it.

As Hermione slowly stood up, she willed her stomach to not expel its contents, while at her side, judging from the slightly green tinge to his face, Draco looked like he was doing the same.

"I don't believe it," he said hoarsely. "Aside from making our lives a living hell, this god-forsaken Love Knot doubles as a portkey to send us to-" He paused, looking around in bewilderment. "What is this place, anyway?"

They were in a large, windowless room with a ceiling that seemed to reach up to the heavens. There was no adornment of any kind on the colorless walls, and perhaps that was why everything seemed oddly insubstantial, as if they were there but not really there.

Hermione suddenly grabbed Draco's arm. "Someone's coming," she said, voice low and anxious.

They both whirled around to see a feature of the room they had previously overlooked: a cavernous series of twisting hallways that could have led anywhere and nowhere. And within that maze, they could hear an unseen someone hurrying along one of its routes.

"You don't think this is dark magic, do you?" Draco whispered, as the footsteps grew nearer.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think so. Nothing's powerful enough to mess with any of the Love Knot's properties." But she looked nervous nonetheless.

They waited in tense silence as the footsteps finally came to a stop, and then quite suddenly, a head poked through one of the entrances.

Draco's jaw dropped as the stranger sprinted towards them, beaming as if their arrival had made his day. He was short, only coming up to their shins as he stopped before them, and with his baby-like face, white diaper and tiny, feathered wings, he looked like the unfortunate stereotype of every clichéd cherub image ever conceived.

"Welcome!" he squeaked, wringing both their hands. "Welcome, my dear sir and lady, to _Here_."

Hermione exchanged stunned looks with Draco.

After a moment of silence, she tentatively ventured, "Sorry, but where _is_ here? What is this place?"

He blinked in astonishment, as if that question had never been asked before. "No one really knows."

Draco stared at him in disbelief. "He's mental."

Hermione shushed him, though she couldn't help privately agreeing a little. Anyone who wore diapers and carried around harps on a daily basis couldn't be entirely right in the head.

"In that case," she said slowly, "will you tell us who you are?"

Draco nudged her, sniggering. "C'mon Granger, isn't it obvious? He's a bloody cherub!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Malfoy-"

"But I am," the cherub interrupted, smiling indulgently. "One of many, actually. The name's Cupid."

Catching their looks, he added, "I know, I know. Not very original." Then he shrugged as if to say, _what can you do?_

As both their jaws dropped, Cupid continued, "There's no need to tell me who you two are, of course. You've been the whole chamber's entertainment for nearly a year now, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger."

Newly enlightened with this disturbing information of voyeurism, they could only continue staring at him.

Apparently unconcerned, Cupid clapped his hands. "Now that we've got all the introductions out of the way, I'll best be presenting you to my lady. She does hate to be kept waiting."

Draco and Hermione reluctantly exchanged a look filled with communication, debating the merits of going with this Cupid fellow who seemed not only a bit unhinged, but quite possibly psychotic (at least, according to Draco's opinion).

He grimaced, and Hermione was familiar enough with that look to know he thought this was all a load of bull and the best thing they could do was find some way to activate the Love Knot to send them back to the Head's dorm.

She narrowed her eyes, and Draco was well-versed enough with that action to know that she was set on going with Cupid to finally get some decent answers on the Love Knot, and if it so happened the other cherubs were waiting to bludgeon them to death with their harps as they crossed the threshold, so be it.

Draco rolled his eyes at her, thinking that if they died an untimely death in this place, all the better. At least he would be finally free from her incessant nagging and know-it-all ways.

Hermione glared at him, and then flipped him off. Now, she was glad _that_ didn't need any translating. She wouldn't normally do something so unladylike, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Besides, it was totally worth it to see Draco's reaction.

Neither of them thought it strange that they knew each other so well as to be able to hold a conversation composed entirely of grimaces and obscene gestures.

Amused, Cupid watched their silent exchange and wondered how two obviously intelligent people could be so stupid to what was in front of them. Still, it wasn't something he hadn't witnessed a thousand times before in this very chamber.

"Denial," he murmured. "Classic."

Hermione was currently engaged in a battle of wills in the form of a stare-down with Draco, but she broke eye contact to look at the object of their debate when she thought she heard him say something.

"Sorry, but did you say something, Cupid?"

"Nothing at all, Hermione," he said, flashing an easy smile. "So, have you two decided whether or not I'm a psychotic killer intent on leading you to your doom?"

"Mother of Merlin," Draco swore. "You can read our thoughts too? What, do you guys practice Legilimency in your spare time for kicks?"

"Not at all," Cupid said, enjoying the look of annoyance on Draco's face. "I just happen to be quite good at knowing what people are thinking. In my line of work, you have to be."

"It still doesn't rule out the fact you could be some lunatic leading us into a trap-"

"I assure you that I am entirely sane." He paused. "Or as sane as I can possibly be, considering the circumstances."

Draco began to edge away from him, pulling Hermione with him.

"The point is," Cupid stressed, "no harm will come to you here. We are a peaceful people, and we only want to help."

After they argued some more, Draco finally gave in when a frustrated Hermione pulled out her wand and threatened to turn him into an elephant again. And because he had left his own wand back in their dorm, he really had no choice. He sulked as they strode across the room, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't burning with curiosity as well.

As the three of them walked through the same colorless walls (which were thankfully devoid of murderous cherubs) as the room they had just left, Cupid kept glancing at them at the corner of his eye, grinning.

"Ah, young love." He took out a dainty handkerchief from the folds of his diaper and dabbed at the corner of this eyes. "We haven't seen _that_ in a while here!"

"We're not in love," they said simultaneously, glaring at each other.

"Dear, dear," Cupid chuckled. "To be frank, we weren't too surprised when we felt you two coming. It was only a matter of time before the Love Knot decided to take matters into its own hands." He gave the said Love Knot an admiring look.

"Hold on…" Draco said, as they ventured deeper. "When you say _we, _who else are there besides you and the other cherubs?"

But Cupid only smiled once again and increased his pace.

Hermione lost count of the number of times they went right, left and right again in the seemingly endless series of hallways. As they came upon one route significantly larger than the rest, the first thing they noticed was the various framed portraits adorning the newly-scarlet walls.

Draco and Hermione watched in wonder as each of its occupants, usually a man and a woman (though there were quite a few showing only men or only women), excitedly grinned and pointed at them, before whispering into the ears of their companions.

Hermione examined them closely one by one as they passed, doing a double take at how familiar the majority of them seemed. It took her only a few more seconds to figure out why.

They were portraits of mortals and immortals alike, many of whom she had read about in her beloved books. There was everything from famed historical figures, to heroes, artists and inventors. She could see Zeus and Hera surveying them with interest at her right, Romeo and Juliet craning their necks to look at them at her left, and a few portraits down, Odysseus and Penelope smiling and waving at them, just to name a few.

"Cupid?"

He turned to look at her. "Yes, Hermione?"

"The people in these portraits…"

His eyes twinkled. "Go on!"

"They were all once in love with each other, weren't they?"

"Correct!" He beamed. "They are immortalized here because they all bear a testament to the beauties, and tragedies, of love. Have you now figured out to whom I'm taking you to, Hermione?"

She had an idea, but it just seemed too fantastical, too illogical to even contemplate.

"Malfoy, you don't think…?"

"What?"

"This place," she said. "You don't really think we're about to meet-"

But at that exact moment, they rounded a corner and came face-to-face with a set of enormous wooden doors with golden knobs in the shape of hearts and knockers that, upon closer inspection, turned out to be smiling cherubs.

They could now discern the sounds of what seemed like a large party taking place beyond those doors. Cupid knocked three times, and then waited with an expectant look on his face.

"Come in," called a woman's voice, cultured and imperious, amidst the din.

Cupid pushed open the doors and then swept them a bow. "After you."

Exchanging nervous looks, they stepped through the doors, and as they did, the sounds of people talking and laughing in the room came to an abrupt halt.

* * *

If the room they were in before was devoid of any decorations, the enormous chamber they were now in was just the exact opposite. Although it was just as airy and had the same impossibly high ceilings they saw in the first room, this particular chamber had the added effects of sumptuous silk draping of red, white and pink on the walls and across the ceiling, where hundreds of lanterns hung, casting a pleasant gold glow on the whole room. There were elaborate marble statues and fountains scattered across the room, and staring at them slack-jawed and motionless like the sculptures among them, were hundreds upon hundreds of other cherubs.

Curious whispers followed them as Cupid bustled importantly to the front of the room, where there was an intricate golden throne at the center, upon which sat a woman clad in a flowing gown of the deepest red.

"My lady." Cupid bowed deeply. "Presenting Mr. Draco Malfoy and Miss Hermione Granger."

"Thank you, Cupid," she said graciously. "You may go back to the others now."

He gave another deep bow before walking back to the other cherubs, but not before flashing Draco and Hermione a reassuring smile and a wink.

The woman beckoned them closer, and as they did, Draco could smell the scents wafting from her, and it was the most seductive aroma he had ever smelled in his life. It was a heady combination of his wood spice aftershave, his favorite brand of broomstick polish and something fruity that he couldn't put his finger on, though for some reason it was very familiar to him.

Beside him, Hermione looked like she was experiencing the same thing, her eyes half-closed as she breathed deeply. _She smells just like the character spirals from Amortentia,_ thought Hermione in wonder, remembering their first lesson in Slughorn's class back in their sixth year. She could smell the familiar aroma of new parchment and freshly-mown grass, but there was a new scent that puzzled her as to where she might have smelled it. All she could recognize was that there something distinctly woody about it.

Up close, they could see that the woman had one of those faces that were seemingly ageless. She had a body that was ethereal and graceful even when she was sitting down, and lustrous raven hair framing features both strong and delicate, with eyes that seemed to shift color whenever she moved. She studied them closely as they approached, then seemed to approve about something.

" Welcome, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger," she said. "Welcome to my Chamber of Love."

"Chamber of… what?" Hermione said faintly, thinking she'd heard incorrectly.

She arched her brow. "Love, dear. Love. What else would you expect my chamber to be called?"

Hermione stared at her. "So… you really are Venus."

"The one and only," Venus said, inclining her head.

Draco ran an agitated hand through his hair. "This must be a hallucination," he muttered. "A side-effect from cracking my head open on that Quidditch match… yes…"

"Malfoy, if this is a hallucination, then why on Earth am I experiencing it with you?"

He glared at her. "You just can't help being a know-it-all, can't you, Granger?"

Hermione decided she wasn't going to dignify that with a response.

As this was going on, Venus continued to watch them with faint amusement. "Don't you two want to know the reason for your presence in my chamber? The reason why my Love Knot," she fixed her gaze upon it now, "decided to bring you here to stand before me?"

"Well… yes, we do want to know why we're here," Hermione said, chancing a glance at Malfoy from the corner of her eye. "Does it have anything to do with… er… what was happening before we got here?"

"It has everything to do with what happened before you got here. And then some."

She stood up from her throne, striding over to them, and the heavenly fragrance surrounding her became stronger. "Perhaps my greatest creation yet," she said, caressing the Love Knot between their wrists.

"Well, your _creation_ has been more trouble than it's worth," Draco replied, defiant.

Hermione dug her elbow into his ribs, making him flinch and scowl at her.

"I can see that. Still, that's a matter of opinion. I have gleaned a lot from you, Draco Malfoy, all of your hopes, dreams and feelings from the moment my Love Knot bound you two together."

"Oh?" Draco said, massaging his ribs and trying to look nonchalant. "Would you care to tell us what you've learned then?"

"Certainly." She smiled, but there was a shrewd, calculating look in her eyes. "Let us first speak of that Quidditch match, because you truly changed my opinion of you that day." She nodded to Draco, who flushed. "Jaded as I am with some aspects of love, that heroic stunt right then made me feel as if I were experiencing it for the first time."

"That wasn't love," Draco said through clenched teeth.

"If you say so."

"It wasn't! I was… merely performing my duty. I just paid off a debt."

"Debt?"

"Yes, a debt! Granger here thought it would be a fine idea to take a Calming Draught just before my match so she wouldn't scream in my ear or squeeze the life out of me anymore!"

"Malfoy, I already told you…" Hermione muttered, embarrassed and now sincerely regretting that particular lapse of judgment. "It was nothing, there was no debt to be paid-"

"Whatever, Granger."

He turned back to Venus. "Why am I telling you this, anyway? You ought to already know, since Cupid there oh-so-kindly let slip about you lot spying on us!"

Venus ignored this. "People can choose to be kind without expecting anything in return, you know."

Draco didn't answer, while Hermione fidgeted uncomfortably beside him.

"Hmm... I think it's about time you both knew the truth." Before they could say anything more, Venus waved a delicate hand in the air before her, and with that movement the whole room rippled then seemed to melt and fade away like watercolors from a painting.

Various images were flickering in their mind's eye, far too fast to make anything out. There was an indistinct blur of what might have been a face… something that looked like the village of Hogsmeade… a vague image of two figures walking together… what looked like the ceiling of one of their rooms in the Head's dormitory… Suddenly, that last image trembled and dissolved, only to quickly reform into a perfectly vivid memory. But as soon as it became clear what it showed, Draco and Hermione fervently wished for it to still have been indistinguishable. They were silent spectators to the events unfolding before them, events that now were a bittersweet torture to revisit.

There they were kissing in the Head's dorm after that disastrous Valentine's double date…. them out on a moon-lit broom ride with Hermione's hands resting on Draco's bare abdomen, his half-buttoned shirt billowing in the breeze… them plummeting to the ground, and Draco wrapping his arms around Hermione and positioning his body in a way that ensured he would hit the ground first… them kissing in the Quidditch stands in the pouring rain, Draco drawing Hermione closer to whisper in her ear…

The deluge of memories slowed down, only to be replaced by a single memory showing Harry, Ron and Pansy in a room together, and they all appeared to be arguing. But as far as Draco and Hermione could tell, this wasn't one of their memories…

"… don't care how long it takes!"

They were startled to suddenly hear Pansy's voice, as if the volume-control somewhere had just been turned on at full blast.

Harry and Ron watched Pansy pace around the room, both wearing identical scowls.

"You said we'd do it next week," Harry accused. "Why the sudden rush, Parkinson?"

"Forget what I said. We've got to do it now."

"Again, _why_?"

"That mudblood-"

"Watch it!" Ron snarled.

"Fine, _Granger's _already got Draco wrapped around her finger, so how much longer will you two let this _thing _they have continue?"

"Are you even sure this plan of yours will work? Fat lot it'll do us if it just serves to bring them closer."

_Than they already are,_ was the unspoken thought.

Pansy didn't answer and instead started to rummage around in her schoolbag, eventually coming up with an old, crumpled piece of paper that looked like it was torn from one of the library books.

Harry sighed, exasperated. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

Pansy's only reply was to thrust the piece of paper under both their noses.

Harry and Ron bent their heads together to read the text, their eyes becoming wider and their mouths opening slightly as they did. "Where on Earth did you get this?"

She waved a hand dismissively. "Doesn't matter. The point is, I know how to push Draco's buttons, and you two know to push Granger's. If everything goes according to plan, all this Love Knot business will just be an unpleasant memory."

Harry sighed. "A lot of things could go wrong with this plan of yours, but I guess we're willing to risk it."

"Anything to help Hermione see this giant mistake she's making," Ron added, a troubled and angry look on his face.

"Believe it or not, I'm acting for our best interests here," Pansy said.

Ron snorted. "Yes, I'm sure you've got no ulterior motives whatsoever."

Ignoring him, Pansy continued, "I've seen both your faces whenever you see her with him, you know. All that talking and laughing. Spending all their free time up in their cozy common room."

Harry and Ron exchanged dark looks.

"And of course," she grimaced, "that disgusting display at that Quidditch match."

Ron's fists tightened.

"You want Granger back, and I want Draco back. It's a win-win situation."

Harry and Ron looked decided. "Fine, we'll do it tonight."

"Good. You lure Granger to this room with some tripe about wanting to talk about her feelings or some other nonsense like that, and I'll be strolling up to Draco outside to make him see the light once and for all."

"What are you going to say to him?"

"Let's just say if there's one thing Draco cares about, it's what his friends think of him. Don't worry, after I'm done, Draco will be sorry he ever treated Granger with more courtesy than dirt like her deserves."

Ignoring their glares, Pansy turned on her heel, calling out over her shoulder, "Until later, Potter, Weasely. Don't you dare fail."

But even as she said it, she and her voice were already fading away, and Draco and Hermione suddenly found themselves standing back in the Chamber of Love, as if they had never left it in the first place. Disoriented, they could only gape at Venus, who was sitting back on her throne and smiling sadly at them.

"Well, their hearts were in the right place, except for that detestable girl, but it does irk me to no end when people interfere in the matters of the heart. Nasty business, that, and with ever nastier consequences." She gestured to them. "The very proof is here before me. And it was all going so well for you two."

Hermione was too stunned by what she had seen to pay much attention to what Venus was saying, while at her side, Draco kept swearing under his breath, his expression furious.

_It's too late. Too late. The damage has already been done._

These were the thoughts repeating in Draco's head like a broken record, his stupidity that had cost him so much thrown into stark relief.

As if reading his mind, Venus said softly, "Nothing's ever too late. Especially love."

Draco eventually unstuck his throat, finding it impossible to look Hermione in the eye, and suddenly so angry, but at what, he wasn't entirely sure. At Venus, for having him relive those moments that used to make him so happy, but now caused him pain? At Pansy, for her selfish meddling? Or at himself, for having been manipulated so easily and destroying the one thing that made him the most content he'd been in years?

He rounded on Venus, his voice rough as he asked, "Were those first images necessary? You could have just shown us that last one, and be done with it. Wanted to see us squirm, did you?"

"That wasn't my doing. My Love Knot showed you only what it was able to. All those moments were when it was at its strongest." She tapped her chin with an elegant finger. "I wonder why."

Draco still refused to look at her, or at anyone else for that matter.

"I once heard a wise wizard say that good consequences can result from bad beginnings. Charming man. Pity love never strayed for long in his wake."

Hermione cleared her throat with some difficulty. "Do we know him?"

"I'll never tell." But Venus continued to muse, "Great love can spring from great hate. Not something I didn't know before, but still. It's an exceedingly fine line between love and hate, don't you agree? Some might even go so far as to say you can't have one without the other."

"That's what I see in both your futures, you know," she added.

When Hermione still looked confused, and Draco still determinedly looking at anything except her, Venus clarified, "Great hate. But also a great deal of love. One will eventually outweigh the other, but which, only you two have the power to decide. However, if there's one piece of advice I can give you, it's this: Don't lose love because of pride."

"Well, that ought to be easy enough to do, because we aren't in love!"

It was a reflex saying, and one that seemed to Draco a feebler and feebler excuse each time it was uttered.

Venus looked at him. "Keep telling yourself that."

"Anyway," Hermione hastily interjected, feeling like there was only so much her emotions could take. "Can you please tell us once and for all why the Love Knot sent us here?"

Venus nodded. "Have you any idea why the Love Knot is so rare in your world, Hermione?"

Hermione blinked at the unexpected question, but then shook her head.

"It's because I don't give away my Love Knots just to anybody who requests them. The one you have now has been on Earth for more than six hundred years, all with hits and misses with the people it has bonded."

"Did you just say _six hundred_-"

"It doesn't agree to malicious purposes, and only consents to bind two people together if it believes they truly have a chance of falling in love. It's a very rare thing for my Love Knot to send you two to me. It must have decided to never give up until it has fulfilled its purpose." She smiled faintly. "Its power baffles even me sometimes."

"But my father-"

"Your father's intended purpose was only for you two to agree to marriage. What he didn't know is when the two people it has bound fall in love, the Love Knot starts making its own rules." Venus shrugged. "Ignorance is its own folly."

Draco was stunned by this. It appeared his father was thwarted by his own game. _Serves him right_, he thought viciously. He looked up at Venus. "But if you're so keen to get the two of us together, why didn't you, I don't know, find some way to compel someone to slip us some Amortentia or something?"

Her brow wrinkled. "That filthy brew? I can think of nothing more lowly then forcing people to love. Not love in the true sense, even! Merely an all-consuming obsession." She shook her head. "Disgraceful."

Draco frowned. "Doesn't this Love Knot of yours do the exact same thing?"

"Haven't you learned anything at all from your time with my Love Knot, Draco?"

He shifted uncomfortably.

"My dear boy, the Love Knot doesn't need to resort to such lowly tricks, not when it can make people fall in love the old-fashioned way! Which is still the right way, I assure you."

"Venus, just what do you mean by _the old-fashioned way_?" Hermione asked.

"Isn't it obvious? By talking, laughing, being there for one another, learning each other's secrets and keeping them-"

"Finding out that a person is more than what they first appear," Hermione murmured, a faraway look on her face, "and that they add up to someone you're glad to have known."

Venus winked. "Clever girl."

Draco had an odd look on his face, his chest suddenly feeling uncomfortably tight. "And… tolerating all that person's infuriating habits," he said, voice quiet, "because you know it what makes them who they are."

Venus smiled widely. "Clever boy."

Draco and Hermione continued standing there for a little while, lost in their thoughts. They idly wondered how much time had passed back in their own world, although if it turned out days, months or even years had gone by, it wouldn't matter. Not really. Then Draco coughed, and Hermione got the hint.

"Thank you for showing us the truth, Venus. I… I guess we'll best be going now."

Venus settled back into her throne, her unnerving smile still in place. "You'll do that, won't you?"

"Yes," Hermione said, attempting a weak smile.

"Well, all you have to do is touch the Love Knot again, and it will transport you back."

They nodded and started to raise their hands, prepared to do just that, but her voice stopped them.

"By the way," she said, tone casual. "When you two return to your world, the Love Knot will no longer bind you together."

They froze. "Why?"

"Because it has already fulfilled its purpose."

Before Draco and Hermione could start bombarding her with questions on this infuriatingly enigmatic statement, Venus waved her hand and the whole chamber was swallowed up by the feeling of once again hurtling into emptiness, that horrible suffocating sensation bearing down upon them, their insides feeling like mush…

They staggered as they appeared in the Head's common room at the same spot they disappeared, but thankfully, neither fell over each other this time.

"Bloody hell," Draco mumbled, massaging his temples.

Hermione couldn't agree more.

She remembered Venus's parting words, and immediately looked down at her wrist. And just in time too. As Draco copied her movement, the Love Knot detached from both ends, slowly drifting to the floor between them, its strange, silvery sheen glinting innocently.

Hermione sucked in a sharp breath as she stared at the Love Knot, feeling an odd mixture of relief and sadness at seeing it there on the floor after it had been a part of her daily life since that eventful Christmas morning.

Draco in turn gazed at the Love Knot that at first had made his life a living hell, then later on became something that had given him a quiet sort of contentment. He finally tore his eyes away, and was startled to see Hermione already staring at him, her face unreadable.

"Granger, I-"

"Save it, Malfoy."

"No, wait-"

"Look, I'm exhausted, we'd just been to see the Goddess of Love in another dimension for Merlin's sake-"

"I know, but here me out- please!" he said, seeing Hermione's expression turn stonier with every passing second.

"Believe it or not, I'm not really in the mood to hear your excuses tonight, Malfoy. Or any other night."

And with that, she started to storm away from him in the direction of her room, but he caught her arm.

"Let go of me."

"No."

"I said, _let go of me_."

"Not until you hear me out."

Her eyes blazed. "If you don't let go of me right now, I swear, I'll curse you into oblivion."

Draco opened his mouth, ready to argue, but stopped as he saw Hermione's eyes fill with unshed tears, trained on him with such venom… and hurt.

"Don't you dare think anything's changed tonight just because of where we'd been or who we'd seen. You still think of me as nothing more than a mudblood, and I still hate you."

Stung, he let her go, watching as she ran up to her room and slammed the door.

He didn't know how long he stood there staring at her closed door. Eventually, feeling a kind of numbness as if his body didn't belong to him, he went in the opposite direction that led to his own room, where he would be sleeping alone from now on.

* * *

Hermione started to gasp as huge sobs shook her the moment she slammed her door. She sank to the floor, clutching her knees and burying her face against them. She didn't know how long she stayed like that, but finally she summoned the courage to drag herself to bed, not bothering to change into her nightclothes. And speaking of nightclothes…

As if in a daze, she got up and headed to the pile of clothes waiting to be laundered in her wastebasket. She roughly rummaged through it, tossing away shirts, pants, robes… and then there it was. Her favorite nightie with the dancing sheep and pompoms, the one that had become something of Draco's favorite as well…

With a cry of rage she threw it with all her might, where it skidded to the bottom of her chest of drawers, out of sight.

She flopped back into bed with her head buried in her pillow, trying vainly to muffle the sobs that seemed to have no end. Somehow, she felt even worse than she did a few seconds ago, as if that were even possible. Her throat further constricted as she remembered Draco grabbing her arm, him leaning close and her catching a whiff of that enticing, woody scent she had smelled from Venus's Amortentia-like fragrance. No _wonder it was so familiar_, Hermione thought bitterly. _It was his stupid wood spice aftershave._

And speaking of stupidity, she turned out to be the biggest dunce of them all. No doubt he'd be laughing with the Slytherins at breakfast tomorrow, telling them all about her pathetic admission of liking him and having a grand time doing it…

Her fingernails dug into her palms.

She didn't even feel remotely angry or betrayed at Harry and Ron's interference. As of the moment, she didn't feel anything at all. Hermione vaguely remembered something of this effect mentioned in one of the psychology books she had borrowed from the library in a now ill-fated attempt to understand the turbulent feelings inside her.

She needn't have bothered. Those books could burn in hell.

* * *

In the silence of his room, Draco could hear the faint sounds of Hermione's muffled sobs. He still couldn't bear to admit to himself, much less out loud, that he had in fact cared. Cared much too deeply, too much for his own good. He couldn't help replaying the night's events in his mind over and over again, like some kind of sick masochist.

"_I did it out of pity."_

Lies usually came so easily to him. So why did this particular one haunt him so much? It had been a long time since he experienced these painful twinges of his seldom-used conscience, for he usually forgot the lies he told as quickly as he uttered them.

"_I hate you, Draco Malf_oy. _I hate you."_

He screwed his eyes shut as the wave of bitter regret crashed over him for what seemed like the millionth time tonight. Hated him, did she? Well, in some way, he hated her too for making him feel like this, but probably not as much as he hated himself at this very moment.

"_You still think of me as a mudblood, and I still hate you."_

He found himself remembering that memory of Pansy and the dream team conniving, and succeeding, to break them apart. He knew that months ago, he would have done anything in his power to be rid of the Love Knot, but it seemed that little by little, Granger had crept up on him, and being with her day in and day out no longer seemed like the most horrible thing in the world.

He wondered how Pansy (Merlin, what had he done to deserve getting saddled with a psychotic bitch like her?) had consented to being his father's informant. It was possible he threatened her, but something told him Pansy wouldn't need any convincing to ruin his life and keep him under her thumb for as long as she wanted. The most likely scenario he could picture was Malfoy Sr. promising that once Granger agreed to marriage, Pansy could become Draco's unofficial wife and bear his child in secret, or something similarly crazy.

Draco snorted. He'd often wondered if perhaps his father had been a little touched in the head after the Dark Lord's downfall.

But nobody ever counted on them actually falling in love…

Now, just where had _that _thought come from? The suddenness of it sent him reeling. He couldn't really be in love with Granger, could he? He tolerated her, was amused by her, and at times maybe even liked her, but _loved_ her? He couldn't be that stupid. No, no, no.

Hermione's crying had tapered off to a few sniffles during Draco's inner battle, then eventually, silence.

And all Draco could do was continue listening to that heavy silence as he stared, unblinking, up at the ceiling.

* * *

Hermione woke at the crack of dawn and was no longer able to fall asleep after that, her dreams proving to be just as restless as her waking hours. She slowly sat up, stretching and working out the kinks in her neck and shoulders. She wouldn't admit to herself that perhaps there was another reason for her being up this early, and that it was to avoid a run-in with the boy responsible for her restless night.

After she showered and dressed, she crept as silently as she could to the common room to grab her bag and go down to the Great Hall for an early breakfast. Mercifully, Malfoy still wasn't up, but Hermione wasn't as alone in the common room as she would have liked.

"Ah, there she is." Salazar smirked from his portrait atop the fireplace. "Just the person we wanted to see. Enjoying your newfound freedom?"

Resigned to being interrogated, Hermione looked up at him. "I suppose."

"Hermione!" Godric exclaimed. "We were just wondering when one of you would come down. I hope you'll tell us," he said in a hushed, excited whisper, "what in the _world _happened to make the Love Knot release you two?"

He pointed to something a few feet to her left, and as she followed his finger to the object in question, she felt a little pang in her chest as she saw the Love Knot lying there in the same position they had left it last night.

Was it glistening even more now than usual, or was it just her imagination…?

"… Hermione?"

"Oh- what?" she said, distracted.

Godric looked a little worried. "I was just wondering why the Love Knot released you two." He added graciously, "If you would consent to tell us, of course."

Salazar looked up, interested. "Has it fulfilled its purpose, then?"

"… in a manner of speaking."

"How wonderfully enigmatic of you," he snapped.

"Hush, Salazar," Godric admonished. "Hermione is probably just a little shaken up by the recent events. How would _you_ like it if your daily routine was uprooted in such an abrupt manner?"

He raised a thin bow. "I wouldn't know. There are no daily routines of mine with which to uproot. For Merlin's sake, we're _paintings_, Godric, in case you've forgotten."

Godric ignored him.

"But you're okay, aren't you, Hermione?"

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

Godric looked uncomfortable. "I don't know. I thought perhaps you and Draco have become rather… er… _fond _of each other."

Hermione was bending over her bag, her face hidden from them. "Not really."

"Oh," Godric said in a slightly disbelieving tone, as Salazar snorted. "Well, alright then. I hope you have a good morning, Hermione."

"I hope you have one as well, Godric."

They watched her as she gave them another false, cheery smile, and then went on her way.

As she climbed through the portrait hole out of sight, silence prevailed for a few seconds. Then suddenly,

"She's lying, you know," Salazar drawled.

Godric settled back into his chair, frowning slightly. "Yes. But about what, I have no idea…"

"Don't bother, Godric. Give teenagers the chance to tell the truth, and they almost always choose to lie just to spite you."

He drummed his fingers against his armrest. "All I can say is that we've definitely missed something big this time. Again."

* * *

Draco rolled over in his side of the bed, groaning slightly at his aching head. He was still exhausted, seeing as he hadn't fallen asleep until the crack of dawn. Thank Merlin it was a Sunday.

He reflexively reached his hand over to his right to wake Hermione, but then he stopped. Of course she wasn't there. And it was highly unlikely that she'll ever be there again. He found himself unconsciously missing her warmth, missing _her_, but the truth was, he was much too emotionally drained to deal with it right now. Last night was a bit of a blur, as if the impossibility of being transported to another dimension and meeting the Goddess of Love who'd kept on insisting he and Granger were deeply in love had temporarily robbed him of the ability to think properly.

_Granger_. Even her name now brought a bitter taste to his mouth. Once again, he felt a hot surge of anger at her. He had apologized, hadn't he? Or tried to, at least. Even begged her (which was relatively unheard of for a Malfoy to do) to hear his side of the story.

He already knew deep down that no matter how much he pretended otherwise, he had always cared about what others thought of him. He didn't know how to be anything else. It wasn't his fault she refused to listen, not his fault if she wanted to stew for the remainder of the year. In fact, he would be better off. Free to play Quidditch, to hang out with his own friends, to kiss other girls…

So why did these thoughts, instead of cheering him up, make him feel infinitely worse?

Draco got up, still refusing to look at that particular side of his bed, and then proceeded to get dressed. If he had a choice, he would have been quite happy to spend the rest of day in bed. But his stomach had other ideas. It gave a series of loud rumbles as he made his way to their common room, reminding him that he hadn't eaten anything the night before. He sincerely hoped Hermione wasn't in the common room, and cautiously poked his head through the hallway, eyes sweeping the area to see if the coast was clear.

It was, and he gave a sigh of relief as he swiftly walked to the portrait hole. As he swung his legs through the entrance, he thought he might have heard the portraits calling after him, but he paid them no mind. He really didn't have the patience to satisfy their curiosity right now. Or ever.

_It's not like I won't have the life questioned out of me today,_ he thought darkly. _Seeing as it seems every student's sole purpose in this school was to hear, and spread, gossip._

And sure enough, when he arrived at the Great Hall the hum of conversation broke off as those nearest the doors burst out in hushed whispers and giggles. It was almost as bad as when people first saw them bound with the Love Knot or rumored to have been involved in all sorts of illicit activities in the boys' toilet. But this was probably ten times worse, since he didn't have anyone to share the humiliation with this time around.

And despite the assurances he'd told himself not ten minutes ago about all this being for the best, his eyes were still drawn to the Gryffindor table almost against his will. He found her in an instant, sandwiched between the dream team who were shooting not-so-subtle glares at him, as if somehow this was all his fault and not the other way around.

Hermione was keeping her head down as she ate her porridge, thoroughly ignoring him as though they hadn't just spent more than half the year tied to one another. Well, if that was the game she wanted to play, so be it. Just as Draco was about to turn his head, he noticed the Weasely girl- what was her name again? Ginny?- staring as intently at him as Granger was as determined to avoid his gaze.

He shrugged it off. He had enough problems to deal with right now without wondering when she would take it upon herself to yell at him until his ears bled.

First things first: breakfast. As he walked over to the Slytherin table, he tried his best to ignore all the stares, whispers and pointed fingers still following him. Wanting to situate himself as far away from Pansy as possible, he slid into a seat beside Zabini, who turned to look at him with a faint smirk.

"Draco!" he said, his eyes immediately zeroing in on his bare wrist and the absence of any brown-eyed, bushy-haired girls by his side. "Finally got that ball and chain out of the way, I see."

Whether he meant the Love Knot or Hermione, he would never know.

Draco loaded eggs and kippers into his plate, not meeting Zabini's eyes. "I guess."

"Pity," he sighed. "I think she was the first girl to ask me questions requiring more than the minimum amount of brain cells we usually get from people around here."

"Yeah…"

"And with looks like hers, she wasn't exactly breaking any mirrors either."

Draco just grunted.

"I mean, if it wasn't for her blood I might even consider her as something of a friend." He shrugged. "Shame, really."

Draco found himself nodding along, not really paying any attention anymore.

"So, how did it happen?" Zabini asked as he leaned closer and winked suggestively. "Did the Love Knot finally fulfill its _purpose_?"

Draco jerked, nearly spilling pumpkin juice on himself. Well, technically the Love Knot _did_ indeed fulfill its purpose, but it wasn't like Draco was stupid enough to tell him that. "Sod off, Zabini. It was nothing like that. There was-" He cast around wildly for a decent excuse "-a loophole."

"A loophole," Zabini repeated. "Really. How convenient."

Draco gave a seemingly nonchalant shrug. "It happens, you know. The Love Knot knows a lost cause when it sees one. And besides, magic can only take you so far."

Zabini still looked unconvinced, but since he wasn't the type to think too deeply about matters of the Love Knot, or about love in general, he chose to let it go. This time.

"Besides, it's for the best, isn't it?" Draco quietly asked, as though he wanted to convince himself more than the boy beside him.

Zabini raised a brow. "Nevertheless, I still find it hard to believe you didn't have your fun with her while you had the chance." He shook his head. "What a waste of opportunity."

Draco remained silent, reminding himself that it probably wasn't wise to strangle Zabini right now. At least, not in front of so many witnesses. Perhaps later, then?

"Come on, Draco," he cajoled. "I swear I won't hold it against you. Are you quite sure there isn't something you forgot to tell us?"

"For the last time, Zabini, get this through your thick skull: there isn't one bloody thing going on with me and Granger!"

Zabini's reply was drowned out by a shrill, feminine voice suddenly speaking up behind them.

"Well, I certainly hope not!"

It appeared Pansy had decided to join them regardless if she was wanted or not.

"And speaking of girls with the barest minimum of brain cells…" Zabini trailed off.

Pansy ignored him, choosing instead to squeeze herself beside Draco and in the process almost knocked a scowling Zabini off the bench.

"Hello, Draco," she almost crooned, fluttering her lashes at him and grazing her fingers along his arm.

Draco tried hard not to recoil. Pansy's voice suddenly sounded to him like nails on a chalkboard, her touch something to be washed from his skin. Instead he merely gave her a curt nod, sure that if he opened his mouth he'd hurl forth all the accusations he was bursting to say at her.

"It's a good thing that leech's no longer attached to you, isn't it?" she asked with fake sympathy, which sort of ruined her intended effect when she had on the smuggest face he'd ever seen.

Of all the poker-faced bluffers…

"Ah, Pansy." Zabini gave her a sarcastic smile. "I know gossip at this school has no merit whatsoever unless you've gotten a hold of it."

She idly picked at some imaginary lint on her skirt. "True."

"Indeed. So, care to share you're no doubt intelligent view on this matter?" he said, gesturing to Draco's wrist.

"I haven't the faintest idea what you mean, Zabini."

He raised an incredulous brow. "Come off it. The day you haven't got anything to say will be the day all hell breaks loose." His tone turned condescending. "I don't get why you're being this deliberately vague. Am I speaking too fast for you?"

Her smile tightened, but she just blinked innocently at him. "What's there to get? The Love-Knot failed its purpose, Draco's free from that insufferable know-it-all, and now everybody gets to go home happy." She added nastily, "Did you get all that, or will I have to write it down for you?"

Now, to the unobservant eye it might have seemed like she was telling the truth. But Draco had known her far too long to be fooled. Pansy didn't do innocent. She did cunning and manipulative and sneaky, but innocent? Never.

Draco opened his mouth, ready to retort, but Zabini beat him to it.

"Granger wasn't that bad. She's a hell of a lot better company than you, that's for sure!"

Pansy exploded. "Oh, go screw yourself!"

Zabini grinned; glad to finally get a rise from her. "Gladly. Want to help me out? That's all you're really good for anyway."

She made a move as if to slap him, but Draco held her back.

"Don't be stupid," he muttered, gripping her arm to stop her from smacking the living daylights out of Zabini.

"I'm sure she can't help it, Draco," Zabini drawled from over his shoulder as he finally gathered up his things to leave. This was way too much crazy for him to handle this early in the morning.

Pansy took a breath as if to calm herself, then wrested her arm away from him. "And don't you be daft," she snapped. "I know you think Granger's some kind of saint, but really, think about what the Slytherins were starting to say!"

Draco couldn't hold it back any longer."Yes, because apparently I care so much about what my friends think of me," he retorted, using her exact words in the memory Venus showed them.

Pansy looked shocked. "W-what? Where did you hear that?"

Draco refused to answer, averting his eyes and roughly sitting back down. He'd already lost his appetite.

Her face darkened. "Potter and Weasely told you, didn't they? I should have known I couldn't trust those two idiots-"

He stared at her evenly. She really had no idea, did she?

"No," he said.

Her scowl deepened. "What?"

"I said, no. They didn't tell me anything."

"Then how do you-" She shook her head. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. What matters is that this whole ordeal's finally over."

Draco begged to differ, not when he now classified Pansy as a particularly clingy and malignant 'ordeal', and one he'd be infinitely glad to be rid off.

"Do you even know how embarrassing it is as your girlfriend to put up with all the rumors flying around?"

Draco had been staring off into space, but something she said brought him back to reality with an unpleasant bump. "You're my what?"

She looked at him as if he were slow. "Girlfriend," she enunciated with an awful kind of finality. "I'm your girlfriend."

He gaped at her. "Where on Earth did you get that idea?"

Oh, what fresh hell was in store for him this time…?

Pansy seemed baffled at his disbelieving expression, as if honestly wondering why anyone in their right mind wasn't leaping at the chance. She stared at him for the longest time, until something seemed to click into place in her mind. "Oh, you can't be serious." She came closer to hiss in his ear, "Draco, she's a _mudblood_ for Merlin's sake-"

He jerked away from her, hands unconsciously tightening into fists. "How many times have I told you to stop calling her that?"

Pansy's cheeks flushed with anger. "What the hell is your problem? You didn't have much trouble tossing 'mudblood' before every chance you get!"

Draco closed his mouth with a snap. That was true. He did toss around derogatory terms like that like they were nothing; never stopping to think or care that people might be offended or hurt. However, the word now felt like tar in his throat and he was unable to say it aloud anymore.

Pansy tapped her foot impatiently. "Well?" she demanded. "I'm waiting. Have you forgotten what she is? Do I need to remind you _every single time_?"

In the silence that followed, Draco felt a kind of bone-deep weariness descending upon him. He wished he hadn't come down after all, would have been content to lie on his bed in the sanctuary of his room, stomach grumbling with hunger but otherwise glad to not feel this increased hurting in his chest that showed no signs of abating…

"I really don't care anymore," he told Pansy as he dropped his head on the table with a distinct _thud_. "Can you just… go?" He refrained from adding, _And_ _never darken my line of sight again?_

For possibly the first time in her life, Pansy was speechless. She stared at him, sure she had misheard. But when no sounds of apology were forthcoming, she abruptly stood up with barely restrained violence.

"Fine," she snarled. "Fine! If that's the way you want it." She tossed her bag over one shoulder, just narrowly avoiding hitting Draco's head. "But don't you dare come crawling back to me when you get over this delusion of yours!"

Pansy cut a pretty terrifying figure whenever she was in a rage (which more or less happened once a week). People wisely parted from her quickly as she stormed past them, oblivious to the literally hundreds of people craning their necks to see why she was storming off in another one of her legendary huffs.

Draco looked up from the cover of his arms to see if anyone had heard their indiscretions. It wasn't like they'd been shouting, but they hadn't exactly been whispering either. But now that the show was over, the Slytherins sitting closest to him turned back to their respective breakfasts, their newly-resumed conversations buzzing in the air and no doubt keen to dissect this new piece of gossip.

But Draco didn't care about them. His eyes roved the table at the opposite side of the Great Hall, where they locked with the girl responsible for his current predicament.

Hermione looked squarely back at him. She had heard or perhaps guessed what had happened, and now there was curiosity and confusion burning in her eyes. Their gazes lingered for a few moments more, as if they were sizing each other up, but then she turned her head and the connection was gone.

* * *

When Hermione entered the Great Hall that morning, she was intent on finding a seat as far away from Harry and Ron as possible. Giving them the cold shoulder was perhaps the politest form of passive-aggressive retaliation she could think of.

However, all her volatile thoughts were blown out the window when she saw their concerned expressions as they caught sight of her entering through the doors. They beckoned her over, and before she knew it, her feet were already striding towards them before her mind had caught up with her actions.

"Hermione!" Harry said, standing up hastily to give her room on the bench beside him and Ron. "I- how are you?"

"Fine," she replied, smiling a little too cheerily than the simple question warranted.

Ron matched her fake cheeriness perfectly as he turned to look at her. "Hey, you're free! What happened to the Love Knot?"

She shrugged as nonchalantly as she could. "It malfunctioned."

"Oh," Ron replied.

"Hmm," Harry said.

"Yes, well, you guys don't seem too choked up about it," she felt the need to point out. Hermione didn't know why she didn't call them out, but she somehow felt it was the right thing to do for now.

"It's for the best, don't you think?" Harry asked, a hint of uncertainty in his tone.

Ron chuckled unconvincingly. "Besides, I reckon Malfoy was getting pretty boring."

"I guess," she intoned, thinking that even if they thought Malfoy was boring, she'd still rather be bored for the rest of her life than have to go through another second of this infuriating charade, orchestrated by the two people she thought understood her more than anyone else. But it was hard to stay truly angry at people who'd only been acting with the best intentions (although she was still tempted to give them a good kick up the arse).

_It wasn't their fault_, Hermione reasoned. _Me and Draco going our separate ways was probably inevitable_. At least, this was what Hermione kept telling herself as she tried to crush the feelings that were threatening her with all its impracticalities and impossibilities that given enough time, their fledgling of a relationship might have had time to grow and blossom into- what? Something meaningful? Hermione very nearly snorted. She was deluded, clearly.

But as a last favor to herself and the tattered remains of her dignity, she would try her utmost to squash any and all of her lingering affection for Malfoy. She would forget all the times he'd made her heart race or day just a little bit brighter and less monotonous, be it in the form of his sarcastic, witty remarks, or the times he'd remember that she didn't like her eggs sunny side-up or that pumpkin juice was exactly what she needed to start off her day. It was these little gestures that had unknowingly charmed her as well as disarmed her, giving her insight to a side of Draco not many people knew. She would have wanted to know more, but it was not to be, and Hermione found herself back to reality and the sounds of Harry calling her name.

"Oh- what?"

Harry and Ron looked at her in a way that was reminiscent of Godric's expression that morning, when he'd looked like he was questioning her sanity.

"Anything… interesting happen last night, Hermione?" Harry asked instead, with Ron looking intently at her.

Ginny was looking at her as well, a thoughtful but rather intense look on her face as she awaited her answer. She hadn't said anything since Hermione had sat down, but Hermione had a feeling Ginny understood more than she let on.

Hermione thought of her and Draco going to another dimension, meeting hundreds of cherubs and the Goddess of Love herself, finding out about them going against her back to ruin the thing that made her the most happy until yesterday…

"No, not really."

* * *

_A/N__: Whether it's good or bad, tell me what you think! I can take it. :) About six more chapters coming up, so I'll be updating as fast as physically possible._

_Next chapter: The Consequences of Meddling_


	2. Chapter 40: The Consequences of Meddling

**The Unseemly Proposal**

Chapter 40: The Consequences of Meddling

* * *

The late-morning sun streamed through the castle's arched windows into the classroom below, overlooking the mixture of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor students in various states of attentiveness at the ongoing lesson.

The only interruption to the sounds of quills scratching parchment was the witch lecturing at great length on the current topic, supposedly one of the more difficult branches of magic they'd be encountering in their N.E.W.T.s at the end of term.

"Human-Object Transfiguration, which you will all be attempting today, is yet another sub-type of transformation magic."

McGonagall paused to turn and scribble something on the board already filled with the spell's founding wizard, history and many other things anyone in their right mind wouldn't be bothered to learn.

She faced the class once again and continued, "It differs from a straight transformation in two ways: firstly, switching the target into an object simultaneously; secondly, the change in one of the pair is dependent on a change in the other."

Most of the class had the same glazed looks on their faces that usually happened when McGonagall spoke for more than a few minutes these days; except of course for Hermione, who was listening and taking down notes, as diligent as ever.

Harry and Ron at her sides were less diligent, and quite blatantly so: both were playing hangman on a spare piece of parchment they'd been passing back and forth for the past half-hour, ignoring Hermione's glares and occasional painful pokes to the ribs whenever McGonagall had her back turned.

"Now, the incantation is, repeat after me: _Homo Inanimatus_."

"_Homo Inanimatus_," the class echoed.

"Good," McGonagall said. "Remember the nuances of the incantation and the proper wand movements, and I trust most of you will have something to show for it at the end of class. You will be working in pairs," and almost as an afterthought, she added, "and I beg you, Mr. Longbottom, to not have a repeat of the last time I assigned pair work to this class, or else Mr. Finnigan would be behind on his homework again."

Some people snickered as they remembered the disastrous class last week, where they ended up having to carry an unconscious Seamus with purple smoke coming out of his ears to the Hospital Wing. Neville's face grew pink as he slid further down his desk, while Seamus grinned and slapped him companionably on the back.

"No harm, no foul, eh Neville?"

Professor McGonagall sternly surveyed the rest of the class beneath her spectacles. "I trust everyone has been keeping notes. Even if it may take most of you a few more lessons to execute this spell perfectly, I still expect all of you to have a reasonably firm grasp of it at the end of this session. Oh, and Potter, Weasley, if I catch you playing that Muggle game in my class again..."

She let the threat hang in the air, leaving Harry and Ron to exchange sheepish looks as they hurriedly crumpled the offending parchment.

"You may begin."

Ron cajoled Hermione into being his partner for the day, while Harry, too late, was stuck with an enthusiastic Neville, who had sidled to his side when he wasn't paying attention. Apparently, Seamus thought being partners with Neville for a second time in a row was tempting fate.

They had spent the better part of the lecture listening to McGonagall explain the intricacies of the spell they would be casting, as well as listing all kinds of horrific things that could happen to them if they got it wrong, which was awfully considerate of her.

"_Homo Inanimatus_! C'mon… _Homo Inanimatus_! Oh no…"

Poor Neville was having no luck with the spell as time crawled by, but Harry and Ron weren't any better off, always missing a vital element in the transfiguration process.

As usual, it seemed only Hermione quickly got the hang of it, successfully transfiguring her lower body into an exact replica of the legs of a nearby chair.

"How on earth do you do that?" Ron asked after his fifth unsuccessful attempt, which somehow managed to turn his right arm into something resembling a grimy mushroom, which wasn't exactly what he was going for.

"Do what?" Hermione asked distractedly as she transfigured her legs back, now looking into transfiguring her whole body into the chair.

"Soak up information and theories like a sponge and be all nauseatingly perfect when you execute it."

Hermione raised a brow. "We've been friends for nearly seven years, and it's only now you're asking me that?"

Ron grinned. "Only when I'm in dire need."

"In that case, I'm surprised you don't ask for my help more often."

"Well, don't rub it in or anything."

"Oh, but Harry wouldn't stoop so low as to ask for my help now. Just look at him, he's doing fine all on his own."

True to her words, Harry chose that moment to accidentally set Neville's sleeve on fire.

"He's a proud man, but lucky for you, I'm not."

"Lucky me," Hermione deadpanned. "Well, let's get started then. Try the spell again, and I'll look at where you're going wrong."

Ron did just that, imagining his legs transforming into the chair, waving his wand and—

"Wait," Hermione interrupted. "Only wave your wand when you're nearing the end of the incantation, to allow the transformation time to seep into your consciousness."

Ron chuckled. "You sound like Trelawney."

"You want me to help you or not?"

"Sorry, sorry."

"The wand movement's a bit like a flourish at the end— I said _flourish_, not jab."

Ron gave her a confused look. "What's the difference?"

Hermione gave a huge mental sigh and prepared herself for a long lesson ahead of her.

* * *

"Nightmare, I tell you," Ron muttered as they made their way from the Transfiguration classroom to the Great Hall for a quick lunch. They had double Potions in the afternoon with the Slytherins, which were thankfully the last for the day.

"It wasn't too bad," Harry said reasonably.

"Speak for yourself. I nearly tore my hair out before I finally managed to turn my body into the desk, and even then it wasn't a full transformation! You could still see my freckles on the wood grain."

"You'll get the hang of it," Hermione assured him. "You're probably just a little stressed, which I'm sure will disappear once—"

"Ever the optimist. You'll be eating your words, Hermione, when N.E.W.T.s week comes. No one's safe from the madness it inflicts, both on teachers and students alike."

As Ron stated so ominously, their N.E.W.T.s were fast approaching, with only a weekend as respite before their day of reckoning. Seventh year students could be seen filling up the library to near capacity when they had free time, or else snapping at the noisy undergraduates to "shut the hell up" when they studied in their respective common rooms.

With all this dedication and tension filling the air, it was no wonder it came with the usual minor and massive breakdowns suffered by students. Susan Bones, looking pale and wan for the better part of the week now, had taken to drinking unhealthy amounts of coffee at every meal time. Ernie Macmillan on the other hand, had once again began interrogating everyone on their study hours while he irritatingly boasted 12 to 16 hour runs, even as he swayed on the spot.

But despite the increasing difficulty of the lessons they had to learn and the worrisome amount of homework they had to do, for Hermione, it was getting easier. All this mind-numbing preparation she put herself through for the exams (which made the time Ernie spent studying seem lazy) provided much-needed distraction from the rollercoaster of emotion she had gone through for the past few weeks.

Hermione thought she was getting quite good at avoiding Malfoy now. Aside from the usual tactics, she had long ago started coming in at odd hours into the Head's dorm, (having stayed at the library until Madam Pince kicked her out) thus ensuring she'd no longer have to experience the awkwardness of meeting Malfoy face-to-face. She supposed could have slept in her old room at the Gryffindor Tower, but Hermione had her pride, and she loathed to be the first one to admit defeat so publicly.

If Harry and Ron noticed Hermione was sometimes quieter than usual and that her smiles were few and far between, they chose not to think too hard about it, and when they did, attributed it to her terrifying penchant for studying with barely restrained zeal for the exams that could soon influence the rest of their lives.

The Potions class they had after lunch was fortunately devoid of any nasty surprises, with Snape just choosing to have them review the uses and components of the potions they had already covered last term, and brew the relatively simple (compared to the immensely difficult ones they'd been covering so far) _Draught of Living Death_.

Malfoy could be seen sitting at the furthest table from the room with his usual cronies, never once meeting her eyes. Not that Hermione noticed, for when she entered through the heavy wooden doors of the classroom, she immediately zoned in on their usual table at the front of the room, conveniently the one located farthest away from Malfoy's table.

Hermione couldn't deny coming to this class was sometimes both the highlight of her day, and the one she dreaded the most. Funny, because that was exactly how she felt about Malfoy these days. Some part of her still wanted to choke the life out of him for being so damn _infuriating_, but she still couldn't forget the other side of him, the side that wasn't choke-worthy. Hermione was humiliated to admit, even to herself, that she still had feelings for him.

She sighed with relief as the bell finally rang at the end of class, all three of them having scraped decent marks for their draughts (and in Hermione's case, _decent _meant a grade of Outstanding).

As the bell finally rang, they gathered their things and followed the stream of people heading out of the classroom doors.

"I'll catch up with you two at dinner, alright?" Hermione said, her feet already oriented to the direction of the library.

"Sure thing, Hermione," Ron replied with a smile and a wave goodbye, but seeing as she was already hurrying along the corridor, Hermione didn't notice. Unbeknownst to her and to everyone else, Malfoy, accompanied by his friends, watched her go from the corner of his eye as he strode to the opposite direction.

Ron's smile faded a little as he turned to look at Harry. "You don't think she's pushing herself too hard, do you? I mean…"

"I know," Harry replied.

"You can't honestly think she's still worked up over… _him_?"

Ron shot Malfoy's retreating back a hard look, making no question about who "him" referred to.

"If she still is, then maybe… Merlin, I can't believe I'm saying this, but maybe it's true what she said— that she honestly loved him?"

"She didn't say that!"

"She implied it."

"Not the same thing as actually admitting it," Ron said stubbornly.

Harry gave a helpless shrug. "Well, we didn't exactly give her a chance. Ron, I'm sorry, but I've been thinking."

"What?"

"Thinking that maybe… we were wrong to help Parkinson break them up. And let's face it, even the mere fact that we willingly partnered up with Parkinson is enough to get our heads checked. Also, Hermione always seemed loads happier then, you've got to admit it, even if you don't want to—"

"No, no way." Ron shook his head vehemently. "Whatever this thing they had was, we did her a favor. Malfoy would have hurt her sooner or later, and look at that, we were right!"

Thinking of the differences between Hermione then and now, and how, dare he even think it, Malfoy seemed somehow more _human_ with her around, Harry wasn't so sure anymore.

* * *

Much later that day, with the sun setting and the corridors nearly deserted, Malfoy made his way back to the Head's dorm. He'd opted to skip dinner, seeing as he was still stuffed from the various Honeydukes sweets he'd eaten.

It had been the last Hogsmeade weekend for the term today, and Malfoy had taken the opportunity to relax and let loose, if only for a couple of hours. Maybe Hermione's studying habits had been rubbing off on him, because he found himself studying for long stretches into the night, quite unlike his usual study sessions, which more or less consisted of him reading a few pages of his books and then nodding off when it got too boring.

Even when he arrived at their dorm in the early evening and trooped off to bed around midnight, he had never once encountered Hermione, who he could hear coming in at around two o'clock, long after he'd gone to bed.

But for some reason, he couldn't sleep until he could hear for himself that she got back okay. This was quite preposterous really, since the only danger he could think of her coming across in the mean corridors of Hogwarts would be Peeves pelting her with dungbombs (which no matter how disgusting, was easily remedied by _Scourgify_).

Even if Hermione was still obviously avoiding him with icy indifference, he couldn't help thinking about her in the most inopportune moments… like right now, for instance. Malfoy scowled and put his hands in his pockets, previous good mood forgotten.

True to form, Hermione was nowhere to be seen when he crossed the entrance through the portrait hole. But this evening was clearly not destined to be relaxing or productive, as he could now hear the unmistakable sounds of Malfoy Sr. calling his name with increasing annoyance from the fireplace.

For a moment, Malfoy was torn between just going on his merry way and shoveling dinner down his throat after all; but then again, there was only so long he could put this conversation off.

Malfoy strode into view, and before he could even open his mouth, Lucius fixed him with a glare.

"Finally," he barked. "Haven't I told you I would be dropping in any day now? Especially in light of the recent… developments." With this last statement, he fixed his eyes on Malfoy's empty wrist.

"Hello to you too, Father," Malfoy dryly replied. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

"I'm in no mood for your sarcasm today, Draco. And haven't I explicitly told you to contact me immediately the moment the Love Knot fulfilled its purpose?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Must have slipped my mind."

"As things of utmost importance often do with you. But as I've said all along, the end justifies the means. Now, where's my daughter-in-law?"

Malfoy hastened to steer the subject out of these dangerous waters. "With the way you're always breathing down my neck, I would have thought you'd have come to reprimand me sooner."

"Oh, believe me, nothing would have given me greater joy," he drawled. "But your mother, I'm sad to say, has still lost her mind and is getting nowhere near to retrieving it, seeing as I'm still losing money on these ridiculous shopping sprees of hers."

"Is that why you haven't been able to call?"

"Yes, that and we've been staying at this absurdly deserted luxury resort in the Maldives for the past week, with no Floo network access whatsoever. How these Muggles still continue to thrive, I will never know."

"How on Earth did you get from France to the Maldives?"

"You shall have to ask your mother that when we arrive in a few days' time to bring you and Hermione home for the holidays. I'm sure her parents would be simply delighted."

Malfoy felt the world sway for a moment. "Did you just say you'll be arriving soon?"

"Of course. Your Easter holiday is coming up, is it not? We shall use that time to plan for the wedding, send out invitations…"

Malfoy gave a shaky sigh. Better to just get it over with now than to dig a bigger hole for himself later on.

"… although I must say, despite your many ineptitudes, you certainly outdid yourself this time, Draco. I thought it would be another few months at least before the two of you finally cracked."

"Did you just hear what I said?"

"What?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes and started from the beginning. "I screwed up. Or better yet, we screwed up. Or to put it more accurately, you and your Love-Knot screwed up."

There was a very long pause. "And how, pray tell, did I and my perfect plan, to use your crude slang, 'screw up?'"

"The Love-Knot… doesn't agree to malicious purposes, and only consents to bind two people together if it believes they truly have a chance of falling in love. Your intended purpose was only for me and Granger to agree to marriage. But when the two people it has bound fall in love, the Love-Knot starts making its own rules."

Malfoy said all this with an air of resigned memorization. To someone who didn't know him, they would have said he sounded uncaring. But Lucius Malfoy, for all his faults, did in fact know his own son. However, all this took a backseat to the bigger picture.

"Did you… did you just say you love her?" Lucius slowly shook his head in denial. "A mudblood? You've gone and fallen in love with a mudblood?"

"Crazier things have happened. And don't you ever call her that in front of me again."

As his father was silently hyperventilating, Malfoy withdrew into the part of himself that was long past the point of denial, and had been for the past few months. It was tiring to keep pretending, and frankly it was a relief to have finally confided to someone, even if it was someone as unsympathetic as his father.

He'd made peace with the fact that, as utterly unbelievable and absurd as it was, he loved Hermione Granger. Loved her. He'd fallen in love with the way she'd waste no time telling him when she was pissed off (which usually involved something he said and/or did), her intelligence that went beyond books, her loyalty and bravery, and especially the long, intriguing conversations they had in bed, talking about everything and nothing in particular, conversations that sometimes lasted all night and only ended if one of them had already drifted off to sleep.

The fact that he loved Hermione Granger didn't come in the form of some mind-bending, life-altering epiphany. Rather, like his love for her it had come quietly, unexpectedly, and crept up on him with soft, heartfelt certainty. That she was muggle-born didn't matter to him, and he belatedly realized that what she had been trying to tell him all along had finally gotten through: that blood wasn't what defined people.

After a few long moments, Lucius sighed. "I'm extremely disappointed, Draco."

"I can only imagine why. I technically did what you wanted me to do. Well, except for the falling-in-love part, but hey. You can't have everything."

"Allow me to enlighten you, then. All I asked was for you to make Hermione agree to marriage for the sake of convenience, and you couldn't even do that one little thing? I certainly didn't ask you to fall in love with her."

Malfoy held up his wrist. "Since we're playing the blame game here, have you forgotten you're the one who got me into this mess in the first place? Smart move with the Love-Knot, Father, I'll grant you that, but you obviously weren't thinking of the possible consequences."

"I thought you'd be stronger than that, so forgive me for foolishly overestimating your capabilities. It's so like you to fall prey to this sort of weakness of falling for pretty faces— and not even that pretty."

Personally, Malfoy thought his father was insane. It was true Hermione wasn't pretty— she was _beautiful_. The way she refused to change her stubborn, curly hair for anyone, her turned-up nose that always crinkled adorably when he made her laugh, her clear skin and pink lips, and that body… but then again, he might have been biased.

"The whole purpose of this tedious affair was to endear me to wizarding society once more, and perhaps in the future assure me the candidacy of Minister of Magic, which as you perfectly know, has been a dream of mine for quite some time now. And because of this fiasco, it will stay exactly that: a dream."

Malfoy stared at him. First, he desperately wanted him and Hermione to get married, and know he kept reiterating the fact that he only did so to bolster his reputation? Trust his father to always go back to the one agenda that served him best.

"And more importantly, how did you know all this information regarding the Love-Knot?" Lucius gave his son a pointed look. "I was sure I was thorough in eliminating all the possible means for you to acquire that information."

Malfoy was sure he could guess just what these "means" were, which probably ranged from instructing Pansy to rip off the vital pages of Alfred Pigwiggle's book on the Love-Knot to flashing his galleons at the publishers all over Britain to make them all say they no longer had the book's first edition when written to.

"Oh, let's see… first, me and Granger had this huge fight, which resulted in the Love-Knot transporting us to another dimension filled with cherubs and Venus, the Goddess of Love herself. She then told us everything. And I do mean everything."

"I will not tolerate anymore jokes from you!"

Draco slumped down into the nearest armchair. "It's not a joke. Everything I just told you was the truth."

"Stop this nonsense at once." Lucius slowly shook his head in disbelief. "I thought even you wouldn't be able to mess this up, but clearly I overestimated you. Again."

"Hey, it's not entirely my fault!" Malfoy retorted. "If you're so desperate to blame someone, you should look at yourself."

Lucius ignored this.

"So," he said. "So… there is absolutely no chance of the two of you reconciling over your lover's spat?"

"I think this is a hell of a lot more than a lover's spat, Father. So I'm going to go out on a limb here and say no. No, I don't think we'll ever work this out."

"Well, in that case, I guess there isn't anything else much to say."

Malfoy agreed wholeheartedly. "I guess not."

"However, I will say this: thank you, Draco. Thank you very much for your utter destruction of even my best-laid plans."

"You're welcome, Father."

Lucius shook his head in disgust as he turned away from the fireplace, the green flames already obscuring his image as it climbed higher and eventually stopped, revealing a cheerfully crackling fire in the proper shades of red and gold in its wake. All the while Malfoy watched, lost in thought with a troubled look on his face.

* * *

Much later that night, Hermione yawned as she pushed the portrait door closed a little after midnight. It was much earlier than the time she usually came in, but Hermione thought she needed a much-deserved break from all that studying. Her soft bed sounded good right about now, but a long soak in the bathtub with her favorite lavender bubble bath sounded even better. Now if she could just—

"Gah!" Hermione clutched her chest as she saw something, or _someone_, move at the corner of her eye.

Malfoy turned on a lamp. "Shh. You'll wake the portraits."

Hermione ignored this, trying to calm her galloping heart. "I thought I was alone."

"Well, I'm here."

"I can see that."

A long silence stretched out, Hermione standing and Malfoy sitting in one of the two armchairs nearest the fire. This was the first time they'd spoken in months.

After a few moments, Hermione coughed. "Should I find it strange that you're sitting here in the dark at this hour?"

He shrugged. "Let's just say it's become a favorite pastime of mine lately."

"Oh? It's the first time I've seen you down here."

"I'm always here when you come in. It's just the first time I've turned on the lights." He gave her a wry smile.

She tried not to let her mind linger on the question on why he would be waiting up for her in the first place.

"Well, don't let me keep you then," Hermione said. She turned to head up the stairs, but Malfoy's quiet voice stopped her.

"Why don't you take a seat, Granger?" He indicated the empty armchair across from him.

"I'd really rather not," Hermione said quickly. "I'm tired, and I just want to go to sleep—"

"A few minutes won't kill you," he interrupted. "Go on. I won't bite."

Hermione hesitated for a moment, but then cautiously started forward. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself otherwise, she still wasn't totally immune to him. Even talking to him, looking at him, was more than enough to make her heart race with all the things still left unsaid.

"What do you want?" Hermione asked when she finally sat down, perhaps a tad more brusquely than the simple question warranted.

Malfoy didn't speak right away. Instead, he looked at her with one hand resting on his chin, and Hermione stared back at him. The pounding in her chest still wasn't easing up. In fact, it might have gotten worse now under his scrutiny. Oh Merlin, was this what cardiac arrest felt like?

"To talk," he eventually replied.

Hermione grew instantly wary. "About what?"

"You know what. To put it plainly Granger, I don't like this ridiculous amount of pressure you're putting yourself into for the N.E.W.T.s. We both know you could be drunk out of your mind, and you'd still score higher than anyone in our year."

Hermione's mouth hung open in outrage. "You have no right to tell me that! We're not friends; we're certainly not married, so mind your own business."

He held up his hands. "Alright, alright, you don't need to get your wand in a knot. I just think you don't need to wear yourself out with this much studying."

"I like wearing myself out studying."

"Don't I know it. But it's unhealthy, and…"

"And what?"

"I just want you safe, okay? I don't want to hear about you keeling over one of these days because you forgot to eat or didn't get enough sleep."

Her mouth set into a stubborn line, Hermione asked, "What's it to you?"

Malfoy shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. But listen, I'll continue keeping out of your way, if you just promise to relax once in a while. Just a few hours break."

Hermione didn't say anything, her eyes still fixed resolutely at the wall behind him.

"Don't do it for me, but for yourself, and the dream team. Not that I actually care what they feel, but even I can see they're worried about you."

Hermione crossed her arms and exhaled resignedly. "Fine. I'll do it."

Malfoy gave a tired smile. "Thank you."

Hermione nodded stiffly. "So if we're done…"

"Hold on," he said. "Do you remember that day in Hogsmeade? When it was snowing so hard we were convinced we'd be buried alive before we've even finished one round of patrolling?"

"What about it?"

"It was a nice day, wasn't it?"

"I suppose, if you call nearly freezing to death a 'nice day'. Any particular reason for this trip down memory lane, Malfoy?"

Even as she said it, Hermione could remember that day clearly, because it was one of the moments she had with Malfoy then where she'd felt happy and content beyond belief. It started in the late morning, mind-numbingly cold with a seemingly endless supply of snow falling over their heads…

* * *

_A few months ago, the day after Malfoy and Hermione's kiss in the Quidditch stands in the pouring rain…_

"This wind's brutal!"

Malfoy had to nearly shout in Hermione's ear to make himself heard over the din. They had just stepped out of The Three Broomsticks, Hermione clutching a butterbeer and Malfoy furiously rubbing his hands together for warmth.

The village was coated in a picture-perfect postcard of fluffy white snow, and students could be seen hunched over the cold, hurrying along to their destinations. No one else was lingering to chat on the nearly deserted streets.

"You don't think McGonagall's trying to kill us, do you?"

"Probably not. I'm sure she just thinks the Heads should do their duties no matter the weather."

"Yeah, I'm sure she'd say that, seeing as she isn't the one doing the patrolling."

Hermione gave him an amused smile. "Aren't you eager to put misbehaving students in their place?"

"Trust me, no students in their right mind would stay out here in this weather. Why don't we just forget patrolling and head back to the castle? McGonagall won't notice."

With that, he playfully started pulling on her arm, the Love-Knot glittering between them.

"One patrol!" Hermione laughed. "We do just one patrol, then we head back."

"Always the voice of reason, but I'll take it. C'mon."

They started heading up the winding street that went all the way around the village, passing Scrivenshaft's on the way. Hermione took a moment to admire the new gold eagle feather quills gleaming at the front window.

Malfoy shuffled his feet, his hands jammed into the pockets of his cloak. The cold definitely sucked, but the company was another story. He smiled at Granger when he thought she wasn't looking, and just enjoyed the companionable silence as they strolled along, the distant hoots of owls keeping them company.

After a little while, he began eyeing Hermione's butterbeer with envy. "I knew I should have gotten one of those."

Hermione grinned. "Well, tough luck, because I'm not sharing mine."

"I always knew you were the evil one."

"Yes, yes I am."

"Hey, what's that over there?" Malfoy pointed to the group of fir trees behind her.

What?" As Hermione turned around to look, he snatched the butterbeer from her hand and took a big gulp.

"Hey!" She made a half-hearted attempt to get it back, grinning all the while. "You could have just asked for some, if you're so desperate."

"I like keeping you on your toes." He took another sip. "You know what? I think I'll just finish this myself."

"Oh, no you don't!" She made another grab for the bottle, but he dodged her, taking another drink and raising an eyebrow at her. "Malfoy, aren't you the least bit concerned about swapping spit with a muggleborn?"

Malfoy snorted. "It's not like we haven't done that before. Twice now at the last count, isn't it?" He gave her a cheeky grin.

Hermione felt her own cheeks color in response. Trust him to make something that previously embarrassed him into a tool of mockery.

Malfoy privately grinned as he pretended not to notice her blushing. Taking one last sip, he handed her the bottle and clucked her on the chin. "Thanks, Granger."

"You're unbelievable."

"Yes, I am quite amazing, aren't I?"

Hermione laughed out loud. "That's not what I meant, and you know it!"

He smirked at her, and as he did Hermione raised the bottle to her lips to distract herself. She then noticed how he'd actually drank only a little bit, and had still left plenty for her. The considerate gesture touched her, though she was still trying her best to seem annoyed, or else he'd make it a habit to drink everyone's butterbeer without permission.

Hermione turned to look at him. "By the way, I've been wondering what you were planning on doing when you finally graduate."

"Such deep questions so early in the day."

Hermione waited. "Well?"

"Hm. Let's see. Probably something with the highest paycheck and minimal work required."

She snorted. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Hey, don't knock it. Not everyone can be brilliant like you."

Hermione closed her mouth, a bit lost for words. To anyone who didn't know him like she did, that might have sounded like sarcasm. But he said it in an entirely matter-of-fact way, and Hermione knew he wasn't just saying it, seeing as he gave out compliments the same way misers gave away money.

She turned her head slightly so Malfoy wouldn't see her little smile, and then decided to change the subject. "You're smart. I've seen your Potions marks."

He shrugged. "Or maybe I'll just live off my father's money for the rest of my life."

"That's a sorry plan. With the rate you're going, all of your father's money would be gone in a few years, tops."

"I always did love your unwavering faith in me."

"Call it looking out for your best interests. Besides, what on earth would happen to our poor children?"

"Not to worry. You'll still be the main breadwinner, of course."

"Of course," Hermione agreed with wry amusement.

The topic of children as well as the plans of a future together had become something of a joke to them, sure as they were of the sheer absurdity and impossibility of it. Or, as Healer King might have said, they were both just in extreme denial.

She finished her drink, then walked a little to the side to toss it into the waiting trash bin, where it crunched up the bottle and let out a self-satisfied burp as a thank you.

On her way back, Hermione kneeled to retie the loose laces on her left trainer, and then almost as an afterthought, scooped up a handful of snow and started forming it into the shape of a ball.

Malfoy gave her a look. "You're not fooling me. As hard as it is to believe, I'm not really in the mood for being target practice right now."

"Must you always make it about you? I just fancied making a snowball."

"Uh-huh. Well, I just hope that snowball won't soon be headed in my direction. I loathe snowball fights."

"Why? Are you scared I'll win?"

"Haha, no. Also, that won't work, Granger. That whole playing against my ego thing? Juvenile. I'd expected more from you—"

Before he'd even finished his sentence, the snowball hit him square on the chest.

Hermione chuckled. "Oops. My hand must have slipped."

Malfoy stared at her in disbelief. "Oh, so this is how it'll be, is it? You're in for it now, Granger."

Hermione shrieked with laughter as a giant snowball came whizzing past her.

Their epic snowball fight continued well into noon, Malfoy ducking behind a makeshift fort as Hermione fired away snowballs at him from her plentiful ammunition beside her. As she took shelter from a giant oak for a few moments to catch her breath, Hermione found herself remembering that silly article she'd found wedged into one of the psychology books she borrowed from the library. It had been entitled (rather childishly) _Ways to Find Out If A Guy Is Attracted To You_.

Hermione had rolled her eyes at that, but at the end couldn't resist sneaking in a peek. She was still a girl, after all. Number one had stated that, _"His pupils dilate when he looks at you."_ She did seem to recall something of that effect as Malfoy looked at her as they left pub, but it could have just been a trick of the light and her own wishful imagination.

Although, number two did say that, _"He finds way to touch you and be close to you."_ Hermione found herself remembering Malfoy's hand lingering on her own a bit too long when he snatched up her butterbeer, but to be fair, it _was_ a cold day, and he probably only needed to warm his hand some more.

Then number three was that, _"He smiles at you for no good reason."_ Well, Malfoy did seem to smile a lot more these days, but Hermione could attribute it to the general high of knowing their day of graduation was near, this teetering between the precipice of being a child and an adult, because she often felt that same combination of giddiness and dread herself.

Meanwhile, number four had said…

But Hermione could no longer remember number four, not when she just now noticed how Malfoy had stepped closer to her hiding place behind the oak tree, and that he was leaning closer to her, one hand settling on her waist and the other brushing the side of her cheek…

Hermione tried to muffle her soft gasp of surprise, but failed. Eyes closed, he was coming nearer, and there was nothing to do but stay still and close her own eyes, and hope for the best that this moment wasn't another figment of her wild imagination.

Malfoy suddenly leaned back, chortling. "I knew it. You so want to kiss me."

Hermione gaped at him, outraged. "You're the one who leaned in! In case you haven't noticed, people don't normally do that!"

He laughed again, and as annoyed as she was, Hermione couldn't help thinking about how this was the first time she saw Malfoy smile and laugh with such abandon. She decided she liked seeing this side of him.

"Granger?"

Lost in thought, Hermione didn't notice how Malfoy had once again stepped closer to her. She looked up to see his face softening, a fond smile on his lips. Then unexpectedly, he leaned in, closed his eyes, and gave her a sweet, gentle kiss on the cheek.

As he slowly leaned back, Hermione fought the urge to touch her cheek there, just to see if it was as burning hot as it seemed. "What was that for?" she whispered, feeling irrationally flustered all of a sudden.

Malfoy shrugged, looking embarrassed. It was so unlike his usual cool and confident self. Hermione decided she liked seeing this side of him as well.

"Don't know what came over me. It must be the cold causing me brain damage. That's the last time, I promise."

"Good," Hermione said faintly. "I wouldn't want you to, anyway. To kiss me again, I mean."

Malfoy looked away. "Good."

"Great," Hermione said.

They were both terrible liars.

* * *

Hermione found herself suddenly back in the Head's dorm with the sound of Malfoy calling her name, the fire in the hearth still crackling merrily and the sky beyond the window a deep indigo scattered with a million stars.

Malfoy was looking at her with a strange expression. "You alright? You looked a little out of it for a while there."

"I'm fine," Hermione said brusquely, embarrassed by the direction her thoughts had taken.

He didn't look entirely convinced, but chose to let it go.

Hermione was desperate to leave, to leave this conversation behind, to leave _him_ behind, and all the unwanted memories he invoked.

"Granger…"

Hermione sighed, back still turned. "What is it this time?"

"I just wanted to tell you… I'm sorry," Malfoy said, voice barely audible.

A heavy silence settled over them, as uncomfortable as it was stifling.

After a while, Hermione asked in a tight voice, "What's there to be sorry for?"

"You know what for. I shouldn't have said what I did back then…"

"But you did," Hermione felt the need to point out.

"Yes, I did. Which I suppose is why you told me you hated me."

At a loss for words, Hermione just gave a feeble shrug.

"I know you can't mean that. I mean, don't you see? Pansy screwed us over, and I see that now, which is why we can go now go back to being—"

"Being what, exactly?"

The bluntness of that question gave Malfoy pause. He didn't know what to tell her, and the right words to placate her were beyond him now. What exactly were they? Friends, lovers, or fiancées? Well, maybe not that last part, but still. He just knew that something, _anything_ would be better than not talking to her ever again.

When Hermione saw that she had effectively shut him up, she seized the opportunity to promptly leave, even though the idea of her warm bed and the promise of a warmer bath did nothing to entice her as before.

Malfoy watched her leave, and didn't call out to stop her this time.

* * *

Early the next day, Harry, Ron and Ginny were sitting at one of the tables in the Gryffindor common room, the muted sounds of their other classmates chatting and laughing a rather pleasant hum in the background.

Ginny wished she could be as carefree as them just now. Although her original purpose had been to catch up on homework before she started classes in less than an hour, at the moment, no homework was being accomplished whatsoever.

She had been tapping her fingers against the table for the past half hour, unsuccessfully thinking of ways to broach the topic that had been occupying her thoughts for nearly a month now in the most tactful way possible. But finally, she couldn't take it anymore.

"That's it. You two, come with me." Ginny punctuated her statement with a sharp jerk of her head towards a deserted corner of the common room, hopefully far from prying ears.

Startled, Harry and Ron exchanged confused looks before slowly getting up to follow her.

As they made their way over, Ron muttered, "Know what this is about?"

"No idea," Harry said quietly in return, although he could sense that what had been bothering Ginny for weeks was exactly the same thing bothering them.

"Right," Ginny said, tossing her long, red hair behind her shoulder. "Out with it. What did you two do to Hermione and Malfoy?"

_Bingo_, Harry thought dully. He opened his mouth, but Ron beat him to it.

"What makes you think we had anything to do with it?"

Ron only used this remarkably indignant and defensive tone when he was full-out lying and guilty of it, like when Mrs. Weasely accused him of not cleaning his room again, or forgetting to de-gnome their garden.

And Ginny knew it.

"I'm pretty sure the Love-Knot didn't just fall off on its own," she shot back. "Also, every time I try to talk to Hermione about it, she just clams up, which can only mean one thing: she doesn't want to put the blame on someone, so aside from Malfoy, this has your names written all over it."

Ron shuffled his feet. "Don't know why it's any of your business."

"My friend's happiness is my business, Ronald," Ginny said as she marched over and poked Ron in the chest.

He slapped her hand away. "Get that away from me."

"Ginny, listen," Harry said hurriedly, before this escalated further. "At the time… we thought we were doing the right thing."

"Harry!" Ron whipped his head to the side, giving him a reproachful look.

"Give it up, Ron. You know she'd find out sooner or later."

Ginny crossed her arms. "Even the best intentions aren't always for the best, Harry. I mean, do you realize exactly what you've done?"

Harry lowered his eyes. "Before, I couldn't see it… or I just didn't want to."

"And you just couldn't leave it well enough alone, could you? Especially you." She turned sharp eyes on Ron. "You just had to ruin Hermione and Malfoy's friendship, for lack of a better word, because you wanted her all to yourself. Well, newsflash Ron: she loves you, but never in the way you wanted. So, suck it up and deal with it."

As she looked up to stare at both their faces, her quiet intensity seemed to fill the room. "Hermione deserves better friends than you two."

With that parting statement she had knowingly stabbed them with, Ginny left, and in the ringing silence she left behind Harry belatedly realized the common room had gone quiet for some time now.

Ron pushed past him, his face a thunderstorm and seemingly oblivious to the looks and gossip they were undoubtedly inspiring. Or not.

"What are you looking at?" Ron snarled at a gawky first-year boy looking at him and most likely whispering unflattering things to his friend behind his hand. The boy blushed scarlet and hurriedly escaped through the portrait door, his friend right behind his heels.

* * *

Hermione eventually found out, in equal parts amusement and chagrin, that stealing was surprisingly easy in a school like Hogwarts. A day didn't go by when a student wasn't moaning the fact that someone had stolen their favorite quill, or had the nerve to filch a copy of one of their more expensive textbooks. And though a lot of them had the presence of mind to take simple precautions to ward against common theft, like say anti-theft charms, the majority were simply too lazy, or too trusting, or believed too much in their overall invincibility.

Lucky for her, Pansy was (unsurprisingly) part of the latter, and walking behind her in a nearly deserted hallway between classes, Hermione, after discreetly whispering _"Confundo!"_ and then _"Accio wallet!"_, had no more difficulty if she had simply strode by and plucked Pansy's wallet from her bag right from under her nose.

Until she actually had the parchment in her hand, Hermione hadn't even been entirely sure at first if Pansy kept something as incriminating as this in her bag, for it could have already been burned or hidden Merlin-knows-where in her trunk in the Slytherin basements.

Hermione didn't relish the thought of drinking a glass full of Polyjuice Potion with one of Pansy's disgusting neon pink painted toe nails just so she could search for it, so she was glad her misfortune didn't extend to that. She knew Pansy, knew how petty minds like hers worked, and thus was certain she'd kept it close to her as some sort of sad trophy she could gloat over.

Sure enough, hidden in the secret compartment in her disgustingly pink neon wallet was a piece of old parchment folded up into a tiny square. _Finally_, Hermione thought. At last, she had the key to unlocking even a part of the Love-Knot's secrets, as well as gaining a more solid explanation than the annoyingly mystical one Venus saw fit to give her and Malfoy.

Having a spare period just now, Hermione took the opportunity to head on up to the privacy of the Head's Tower. When she got in through the portrait hole, she sighed with relief when she looked up to find Godric and Salazar weren't in their portraits above the fireplace.

As she got to her room, Hermione sat on her bed and opened Pansy's wallet. Aside from a few galleons and sickles, there wasn't anything much in it, except for a tattered photograph of Pansy and Malfoy laughing in what appeared to be a Quidditch match, and based on their painfully young faces, it had probably been taken in their first year.

Even if Pansy did orchestrate the plan to break her and Malfoy up, there was no denying Pansy did love Malfoy. True, it was a misguided and selfish love; love formed from all the wrong reasons, but it was love nevertheless. After watching it for a bit and feeling a strange pang in her chest, Hermione refocused her attention to the old parchment hidden in the clever compartment behind the photo. Hermione pried it out, carefully unfolded it, and then smoothed it out to reveal a very creased copy of Alfred Pigwiggle's missing chapter. It was entitled:

_My Findings on the Love-Knot after Years of Exhaustive Research by Alfred Pigwiggle_

_The properties of the Love-Knot are most powerful and mysterious, and endures as one of wizardkind's most enigmatic artifacts. Sought after by many in equal parts admiration, envy and dread, and elusive to those most expecting it, the Love-Knot continues to baffle those under its spell and those who have played witness to its temperamental magic._

_My grandmother, Cassandra Shafflefold had the great fortune (or misfortune, depending on your view) to be saddled with the Love-Knot in her youth, which according to my great-grandfather, "Finally put an end to her inappropriate dalliances with all sorts of men of varying ages and disposition." _

_In her rather scandalous young life, my grandmother did not take kindly to being fettered, and no one was altogether surprised when she vehemently tried all manner of things to be rid of a certain Brandon Pigwiggle, a handsome, arrogant boy whom my mother could never see eye to eye. Mr. Pigwiggle, who had once called my grandmother, "A spoiled, insufferable little girl," retaliated by all means necessary, including searching for all sorts of powerful spells, researching the most obscure books and trying to determine the Love-Knot's true purpose, all of which was in vain. _

_Left with no choice, they were forced to endure each other's company and predictably squabbled over every little thing. But as long days, weeks and months passed, and finally at the end of the year, something remarkable happened, something I believe quite outside the realms of 'usual magic'. _

_Lo and behold, Brandon and Cassandra started falling in love. It was at their wedding, a few years later, at the moment they said I do and shared a long and passionate kiss that the Love-Knot gently fell away from their wrists to pool on the ground below, as thunderous applause erupted from all around them._

_And thus, this was how Mr. Brandon Pigwiggle became my grandfather, and how Miss Cassandra Shafflefold became Mrs. Cassandra Pigwiggle. They lived a long and happy life together, blessed with many children. Since the time I had been told this utterly delightful story when I was a boy, the Love-Knot has held an endless fascination for me, as well as the outcomes of the couples bound to it._

_In various eye-witness accounts from all over the world, and with research spanning centuries, not all stories were happy endings. I've come to discover instances where the Love-Knot has saved them from grave peril, transported them to unknown destinations for a few seconds at a time, and inexplicably fall off in moments of intense heat and passion, and some couples do split up and go their own way, never to hear from each other again. For all this, it can be said that when the Love-Knot takes on a mind of its own, pity to those who stand in its way. _

The rest of the chapter was filled with the same spiel, and frankly, it wasn't any different from the dozens of books about the Love-Knot she had read all those months ago. Hermione rolled her eyes as she crumpled the paper to a ball and tossed it over her shoulder. As shocking as it was to contemplate, it seemed Venus had in fact been telling them the truth, though her version of things was vastly preferable to the cloying sentimentality she had just read. And aside from sounding like a complete fruitcake, Alfred Pigwiggle seemed—

Lost in thought, Hermione jumped guiltily when she finally heard the sounds of someone calling her name. She hurriedly stuffed the balled-up parchment underneath her mattress, and sat with what she hoped was a casual and entirely guilt-free look. After a few moments, the door to the room opened and Ginny's head popped in.

"There you are! I thought you might like some company for a change." Ginny held up two bottles of butterbeer. "I even come bearing gifts."

Hermione laughed. "I should have guessed Fred and George would have let you in on what's behind that fruit painting in the basement."

"Yeah, they're good like that," Ginny agreed. "Dobby and Winky said hello, by the way."

"I'll tell them hello back as soon as I get the chance to drop by."

"They'd like that," Ginny said. "You really don't mind if I hang around?"

"No, I want you to," Hermione said with a sincere smile. She had often felt guilty about not talking to Ginny these past few months. It was kind of hard to do that to people you've poured your heart to, and saw the kind of damage that comes from that sort of vulnerability.

Hermione had felt especially vulnerable, not to mention embarrassed, when she recalled that heartfelt letter she sent to Ginny, about Malfoy and the absolutely insane things she had started to feel. If she recalled correctly, it went a little something like this...

_Dear Ginny, _

_It's strange that despite being in the same school as you and seeing you practically everyday, I have to resort to writing you a letter to share with you my thoughts. How I miss the days when we could talk freely, face-to-face. The Love-Knot indeed comes with a price. _

_I'm not complaining though, not about having to write this letter, nor about the Love-Knot. I've learned to live with it – and with him too. It really isn't that bad, not anymore at least. He isn't all that bad anymore. I know, I know, it sounds odd, doesn't it? I, me, Hermione Jane Granger admitting something like that. I still find it hard to accept. But, believe me, that's not the worse part of this letter. We have bigger problems. I have bigger problems. You'll see what I mean in a bit._

_Have you ever experienced hating someone with every fiber of your being, and then gradually tolerating that someone, then having his habits, his mannerisms, his attitude, his temper, his smile and that stupid way he smirks grow on you? And before you know it, you're feeling emotions that cannot exactly qualify as hate for this someone? Emotions that deserve to be put in a completely different category, a category quite the opposite of hate? _

_Well, I know you well enough to say that no, you have never experienced the abovementioned. Unfortunately, I have. I'm experiencing it, right this instant. And you know exactly who I'm talking about. Yes, I can hardly believe it myself. _

_There's just something about him, Ginny. EVERYTHING about him. It may surprise you, but he can actually be quite civil, gentlemanly and, I daresay, sweet (when he wants to). Don't get me wrong, I'm most certainly not saying that he's an angel in a devil's disguise. No, no, he's not a misunderstood poor soul who has been misguided by his parents. He is the way he is, an insufferable git, no doubt about it. But that's what's so perfect about him – he's imperfect in every conceivable way and I've seen most of it. I've seen through it. He's not innately evil, Ginny, and I can bet you my life that he will not run off to become the next Voldemort. _

_I have been spending most of my waking moments making sense of these feelings that seem to be running amuck in my mind. Initially, I thought ignoring them would make them go away. Fat load of good that did. It only made matters worse. Then I did what any sane, logical person would do in a situation like this- I went to the library, borrowed a whole lot of books and did some research. And these feelings simply defy logic! According to the Matching Principle of Interpersonal Relationships, I am supposed to like someone with a personality, interests and likes similar to mine, not so VASTLY different! Then there's Watson's Theory of... Oh, you know what I mean!_

_I have not been hit over the head with a Bludger repeatedly (as I know you will ask me), I'm not drunk and am certainly not under a spell of some sort. I assure you, Ginny, that I am in the right state of mind. Actually, I don't know about that last bit though, because I honestly think I am falling for Draco Malfoy. That surely warrants for me to get my head examined, doesn't it?_

_Love,_

_Hermione_

_P.S. Please don't tell Harry and Ron. They're not ready for such a shock. I can almost imagine their reaction – ranging from booking a room for me in St. Mungo's Psychiatric Ward to feeding Malfoy to the giant Squid. _

_P.P.S. Please, oh please, burn this letter after you have read it._

And speaking about that letter…

"You did burn it, did you?"

"Burn what?" Ginny asked absent-mindedly, her attention mostly focused on prying the caps off the bottles with a handy spell.

"The letter."

"What letter?"

"The letter that could possibly ruin my life and make me move to Antarctica to breed penguins if it ever fell in the wrong hands."

"Oh. That letter."

Hermione waited impatiently. "Well?"

"What do you take me for?"

"Just answer the question!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Of course I burned it."

Hermione unconsciously relaxed, now feeling a bit contrite. "Sorry I snapped at you. It's just that I think I'll die from embarrassment if anyone ever got their hands on that letter."

Ginny shrugged. "It's okay, I get it. But… I don't think you should ever apologize for emotions you can't help. Don't ever apologize for the truth, Hermione."

"Well, try telling that to the people who matter." She scooted over to lean against her headboard, and Ginny followed suit. "Also, out of curiosity, when did you get so wise?"

"I learned from the best."

"Ah. No wonder."

Ginny smiled and handed Hermione a butterbeer, and they both leaned and took long swigs. "By the way… why penguins?"

Hermione blushed. "Well, why not? They're cute, especially when they walk, and they all look like they're wearing little tuxedos."

"Of course," Ginny said, barely stifling a laugh.

They smiled at each other, and eventually lapsed into a comfortable silence, sipping their butterbeers and just enjoying each other's company.

Ginny spoke first. "So, care to tell me your version of the story? I'm tired of hearing it secondhand from everybody else."

"I would have thought they've already covered the finer points. Or barring that, you could just ask Harry and Ron. I'm sure they'd leap at the chance to tell you how it was for my own good."

Ginny shrugged. "They're idiots like that. You know only your own story matters to me."

Hermione kept quiet, and for a lack of anything to do, sipped at her bottle, though it had been empty for some time now.

"I swear, if ferret-face did anything—"

"It wasn't like that. Well, not exactly. I messed up just as bad as he did."

Ginny raised her brow. "Then tell me. I'm your friend, and it's written in the friend handbook that 'Thou shall never judge a friend, no matter what insanely stupid thing they get themselves into.'"

"I'd like to get my hands on that handbook."

"Don't change the subject. I've kept your dark secret for months now." Ginny leaned in close to whisper to her, as if the very walls might have ears. "You love Malfoy. And from the way you're moping, I bet you loved him a lot. And smart boy that he is, I can bet he loved you too."

Hermione tried her best to fight the sense of discomfort and embarrassment trying to overcome her. Had she really been that obvious? Was she like an open book, free for others to witness her failures and peruse her hurts at leisure?

"Ginny…" She averted her eyes. "Can you please just drop it?"

"No, I won't," she said stubbornly. "I've given you the space you needed for two months now, and it's time you returned the favor. Tell me, Hermione. Trust me."

Hermione remained silent. Ginny was about to open her mouth when at that moment Hermione looked up and Ginny suddenly understood.

"Oh, Hermione…"

"Don't."

Somehow, the pity in Ginny's face hurt worse than all the accusations Harry and Ron could throw at her.

"I know I've been stupid… about loving him, I mean. I couldn't help myself, he's surprisingly easy to love when he puts his mind to it. But I should have known no good could have come out of it." Hermione gave a world-weary sigh. "I was just setting myself up for heartbreak."

"No, you weren't. I don't believe it for a second."

"Why not?" Hermione asked, honestly confused.

"I'm not blind. I've seen the way you look at each other. If that's not love, then I don't know what is."

"Look like what, exactly?"

"Like you're always pining for each other. Back then, when you two were always talking and laughing, it was almost like you were the only people on Earth. And sometimes, when he thinks no one's looking, he looks at you like he's been thirsty for days and you were the only source of water for miles."

"Oh come on, that's ridiculous!"

"The truth often is."

"Ginny, you've been reading entirely too many romance novels."

"Maybe so, but you can't deny it. Go out there, forgive him, and then kiss the shit out of him."

"Too bad fantasy didn't inform reality, or it would be entirely that easy," Hermione said dryly.

"It _is_ that easy. What's stopping you?"

"This little thing called pride, for one."

"Boo to your pride. I thought you'd be past that by now. And besides, not to belittle what you've gone through, but what's a little heartbreak here and there, when in the long run it'll give you the kind of happiness people dream about?"

Hermione sucked in a quick breath. Would it really be that easy?

"And if for some reason the two of you can't ever work it out, I'll always be here for you. What's that muggle saying again?" Ginny thought hard, then snapped her fingers. "I got it! Chicks before dicks!"

Hermione nearly choked on her own spit. "Merlin, where did you hear that one?" As outraged as she tried to make herself sound, Hermione couldn't quite keep the amusement from her voice.

"My dad and I were in the London underground on our way to Diagon Alley, and we could hear these two girls in front of us talking about their backstabbing boyfriends, or something like that. Then the girl with short blonde hair told her friend, 'Remember, chicks before dicks.' Then my dad's ears turned red and he hurried us away before I could hear anymore similar gems."

Hermione snorted. "I'll keep that in mind. By the way, did you know the original version of that was 'Bros before hoes?'"

Ginny gasped in mock outrage. "No way! I've never felt more insulted in my life. Stuff like this makes me want to leave home, become a hardcore feminist, and join all those topless rallies just to prove my point."

"Well, tell me if the urge becomes too unbearable. I'll be behind you all the way."

Hermione tried to keep a straight face, but at Ginny's expression, she burst out laughing.

Ginny chuckled. "Careful, I might take you up on that offer."

Hermione wiped at her eyes, still laughing. "Hah! I hope not. I'd have to be insanely drunk to even think of doing something like that."

"You and me both," Ginny agreed. "By the way, when was the last time you laughed like that?"

"Way too long," Hermione said. She surprised Ginny with an impromptu hug, then quietly said, "Thanks, Ginny."

Ginny squeezed her back. "Anytime, Hermione."

After a while, Ginny broke the silence. "Do you think…" she hesitated, then seemed to gather courage. "Do you really think you could fix what's broken between you two?"

"I don't know," Hermione said, in equal parts honesty and pain. "I'm not really sure about anything between us anymore."

* * *

The library had been filled with a huge number of students at the start of the early afternoon, but eventually tapered off as they were nearing dinnertime. Also, the sight of Madam Pince prowling the shelves for students mishandling her precious books was enough to scare the younger students away. Harry and Ron had been here studying for hours, and Harry offhandedly wondered if this was what it felt like to have your brain slowly turn to mush.

"Ginny was right, you know."

Ron greeted this statement with a grunt, continuing to make Herbology notes on a piece of parchment that had seen better days.

"Hermione deserves better friends than us."

"That's not true," Ron felt the need to point out. "Parvati and Lavender would never have thought to do what we did for Hermione…"

"Maybe Malfoy would have had better sense."

Ron stared at him. "You can't be serious."

Harry stared back, refusing to back down. "You know I am. He cares about her. Maybe even loves her, in his own way."

"I'll have to see it to believe it."

"You do see it. You just don't want to believe it."

Ron gave a heavy sigh, as if all the weight of the world was on his shoulders. After a few minutes that seemed like an eternity, he spoke into his muffled hands, his voice oddly subdued. "I love her. But you're right, she does love him. And Malfoy would have to be insane to not love her back. Nobody's that stupid. People know a good thing when they see it. But… I'll kill him if he hurts her, anymore than he already has."

"Anymore than we already have, you mean?" Harry said gently.

Ron winced, and Harry knew he hit a little too close to home. "I wouldn't expect anything less, Ron." He smiled, and when Ron gave a small, reluctant smile in return, Harry got up.

Ron took a longer time getting up from his chair, claiming his butt had been permanently stuck to it for a few hours now. "And you know… if ever it doesn't work out between them, she'll always have the two of us."

"That she does."

"Also, I'd give anything for Hermione to laugh more these days."

"You and me both. Now, let's go find Hermione and see if she's got the heart to forgive two sorry sods like us. I'm sure with the proper amount of groveling, she'll eventually cave in."

* * *

When Hermione had eaten her fill of the roast chicken, potatoes and steak-and-kidney pie, and drank copious amounts of pumpkin juice, she felt immensely better. It felt good to have a large appetite again. She hadn't seen Ron and Harry at the start of dinner, and thinking they had probably already started earlier, shrugged and settled herself between Ginny and Seamus, who gave her a cheerful grin as she sat beside him.

Pleasantly full and sleepy, Hermione said her goodbyes to Ginny at the entrance hall, planning to go to the Head's dorm to catch up on some much-needed sleep. "Think about what I told you, alright?" Ginny said quietly in parting, and Hermione nodded in return.

It was as she was walking the length of the hallway that she heard pounding footsteps and Harry and Ron's voice call out, "Hermione!"

She turned in surprise to watch both of them running towards her, looking for all the world like someone was chasing them. They skidded to her side a few moments later, sweaty and looking relieved.

"Glad we caught you before you went up for bed," Ron wheezed out.

"Why are you two out of breath?"

"We ran all the way from the library."

"Why? Dinner won't be over for a couple of hours at least."

"It's not dinner. We wanted to tell you something." And in unison, they blurted out without pause, "It-was-our-fault-you-and-Malfoy-had-a-falling-out,-we-were-jealous-and-worried-for-you-and-in-a-decision-we're-sure-we'll-regret-for-the-rest-of-our-lives-we-teamed-up-with-Parkinson-to-figure-out-ways-to-push-your-buttons-and-we're-really-sorry-and-we-hope-you'll-forgive-us-and-we'll-spend-the-rest-of-our-lives-making-it-up-to-you."

"Guys, guys, wait." Hermione held up her hands. "I already know."

Harry and Ron looked up in astonishment. "You do?"

"Yes, but don't ask me to go into the details. Not yet."

They nodded, confused but compliant.

"Also, I just had a talk with Ginny," Hermione continued.

"Ouch." Harry looked at the ground. "I hope she didn't lay it on us too badly. We learned our lesson this morning."

"Not too bad," Hermione said lightly. "She just made me realize some things I should have seen by now."

"So do you… can you please forgive us? I promise we won't meddle anymore, and you're even welcome to continue your relationship with Malfoy."

"What is this, some sort of bizarre blessing?" she asked incredulously.

"No!" they denied vehemently. "Well, sort of… But not in the way you think!" Harry said hastily before Hermione decided to storm off.

"We just want you to know that whatever you decide, we'll always be here for you. As we should have done from the beginning." Ron hung his head as he said this last part.

Hermione looked at them, and could see that they were sincere. She smiled softly. "Well, I appreciate it. And I accept your apology." She stepped closer to them to ruffle their heads affectionately. They started to protest, but they both knew they were indescribably happy to have the old Hermione come back to them.

She looped her arms around the two of them, Ron on the left, Harry on the right. "You know I love you guys, right? Whatever happens, whatever stupid crap you pull, believe that."

Harry and Ron grinned at her. "We believe it, Hermione."

"Just do me one favor, okay?"

"Anything," they said without hesitation.

"Don't ever go behind my back again. I know you two did out of concern for me, and thank you for that, but I'm smart enough to decide things for myself. If anything's bothering you two, come tell me, and we'll work something out, I promise."

* * *

After two more days, N.E.W.T.s week eventually came with a vengeance, and all the seventh-years spent their free time either in the library for some last-minute cramming, or walking around the school with bags full to bursting and with permanently constipated looks.

Fortunately, Hermione felt fairly confident about things, which wasn't a surprise, considering the amount of studying she had dedicated herself to (although she did take Malfoy's advice of taking short breaks now and then, but wouldn't admit to anyone else that she did feel all the better for it). She took her exams with no trouble, helped tutor Harry and Ron with the more challenging subjects, and survived the week virtually unscathed.

It was later that night when Dumbledore was enjoying a nice plateful of cookies in his study that he heard a tentative knock at the door. He sighed, pushing the plate off the side of his desk, brushing the crumbs off his beard and lacing his fingers together as he called, "Come in."

He was just wondering which disgruntled teacher complaining about their salary would it be this time, when Hermione unexpectedly stepped in.

"Why, Miss Granger, isn't this a pleasant surprise."

"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore. I'm sorry to disturb you, but can I please ask for a few minutes of your time?"

"Not at all," he replied kindly. "I'm in need of stimulating conversation anyway. Please, won't you take a seat?"

"Thank you."

_Now, this should be interesting_, Dumbledore thought. Sometimes entertainment was hard to come by in this day and age, and being headmaster was sometimes not all it was cracked up to be. Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger's predicament with the Love-Knot on the other hand had been the furthest thing from boring.

When Hermione had taken the seat in front of Dumbledore's desk, he offered the plateful of treats to her. "Ginger and lemon cookie?"

"Um, no thank you."

"Don't mind if I do, then."

He bit into a cookie, and while he chewed he asked, "Now, what can I do for you, Miss Granger?"

As Dumbledore waited for her response, his eyes caught her hands twisting together, as if agitated by something.

"I'd like to leave for Easter break early. Tonight, if it's not too much of an inconvenience."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Do you have a reason for this rather hasty decision?"

"I suppose I just… need to think. And to breathe."

Dumbledore nodded, sympathy radiating from him.

"Well, I have it on good authority from your professors that once again, you've passed all your exams with flying colors and top marks. So Miss Granger, you are free to come and go as you please." He grinned. "Congratulations."

"Good to know," Hermione said as felt herself deflate with relief at the news. At least this was one load off her shoulders.

"However, I've noticed you haven't yet asked my opinion on what caused the Love-Knot to release you and Mr. Malfoy. I take it you two didn't suddenly agree to marriage when it happened?"

Hermione blushed. "No, professor. I suppose I've been bombarded with too much information on the Love-Knot recently, to be honest."

He nodded sagely. "I know what you mean. The mysteries of love are meant to be discovered slowly through the span of a lifetime, and sometimes even that is not enough time."

"The pain love causes makes you forget about how wonderful it could be sometimes," Hermione spoke without thinking.

"Ah, but the rewards of love soon make it all worthwhile, don't you think?"

"I suppose."

"So answer me this, Miss Granger. You love him, don't you?"

Hermione fought the urge to thump her head against the desk. "Oh come on, is it really that obvious?"

"A little bit," Dumbledore replied with a gentle smile.

"How embarrassing," Hermione muttered. It almost felt as if she was walking around with a neon sign on her forehead, flashing _Look at me! I'm in love with Draco Malfoy!_

"Not at all," Dumbledore disagreed. "I'm 110% sure Mr. Malfoy feels the same way, so at least you shoulder the burden of loving together. Although burden might be the wrong word. Properly cared for, and under the right circumstances, love has the power to make you a better person than you have ever imagined you'd be. It makes you capable of great things, Miss Granger."

"You sound like you know a lot about it, professor."

He chuckled. "Well, I should. I haven't been entirely celibate for the past 150 years, you know."

Hermione tried to get the mental picture out of her mind, but wasn't entirely successful.

"Love is the most powerful force on Earth. Well, that and music, of course." He now had a note of nostalgia in his voice. "Even if this ends badly, Miss Granger, be happy for the time you spent together, and learn from them. In the grand scheme of things, regret and despair has no place in our lives, short as they already are."

Hermione nodded faintly.

"The minute I learned you two became bound with the Love-Knot, I admit I was overcome with great curiosity. I've always known that you and Mr. Malfoy were destined to either remain the greatest of enemies, or on a more optimistic note, the greatest of friends and lovers. Great love can always spring from great hate, you know."

Hermione jerked her head up. Now, that sounded eerily similar to what Venus said…

Dumbledore looked like he knew what she was just thinking about. "Charming lady, isn't she?" he asked, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Oh no, don't tell me you—"

"That's a marvelous tale I'd love to tell another day. Unfortunately, this day is not it. So, off you go, Miss Granger!"

Recognizing when she was being politely dismissed, Hermione made her way out the door. As she made her way to the Head's dorm to finish her packing, Hermione kept thinking about what Dumbledore had said, about love and life and how it was all intertwined to make something bigger than yourself.

Having talked with Ginny, and reconciled with Ron and Harry, Hermione felt a certain lightness she didn't know she had been missing. But she still needed time to think, to come to terms with herself. So, the decision to leave Hogwarts early wasn't exactly something she wanted, but rather what she needed, and for now that was good enough.

* * *

_A/N__: This one's for MoaningMona, who gave me the kick I sorely needed to stop being such a shameless procrastinator and finally finish this chapter. That said, I'd still really appreciate a review! :)_

_Next Chapter: Missed Chances_


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